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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325026">people like us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormwarnings/pseuds/stormwarnings'>stormwarnings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(alaska version), Alternate Universe, Angst, Crime Families, Eventual Happy Ending, Found Families, Kidnap Dads, Modern AU, Multi, author has a questionable understanding of how police detectives actually work, celegorm has deadpool vibes, elronds not great at communication, everybody hates each other but they also all love each other yk, everybodys lives are a dumpster fire aha, no editing we die like men, nova people act like nova people as in they have big houses and shotguns, question mark, some violence, this is frankly rather a mess, will be adding tags as we go along</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:56:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormwarnings/pseuds/stormwarnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond Tar-Minyatur didn't really want to be involved in the mystery that surrounded the Finwëan family. (That's a lie.) But when he receives a creative death threat, as well as a strange visit that begins to unearth parts of his past that were better left buried, he realizes he might not have a choice. (That's a truth. As it turns out, there are even larger skeletons he's about to dig out of the closet.)</p><p>(Alternatively - Celegorm has been trying to run from his past for a decade, with the help of a strange young man who may or may not look exactly like Elrond. Fingon has been desperately trying to find his husband for even longer, with the help of a shattered family strewn across the board. They're all just players in a game, but when anonymous threats start coming and their own start getting murdered, they have to take the leap and remember something important.)</p><p>Family isn't who you're born for. It's who you're willing to die for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Celeborn/Galadriel | Artanis, Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel &amp; Elros Tar-Minyatur, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i...i feel like i need one of those corkboards, with red string, connecting everything. i'm literally going nuts. the only redeeming part of this fic will be that eventually celebrian is coming in, and i cannot WAIT to write her. tags/characters/relationships to be added as we go on. welcome to hell :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elrond Tar-Minyatur’s twin brother was, for all rights and legal purposes, dead.</p><p>This did not stop them from having their weekly phone call at exactly six every Wednesday evening.</p><p>“So what country are you in now?” Elrond asked, having exhausted all discussion of his cat’s latest antics.</p><p>There was silence from the other end of the line.</p><p>“For God’s sake,” Elrond added. “I’m asking because if you’re in London, I’d like it if you picked me up some of that good tea.”</p><p>His brother, Elros Tar-Minyatur, laughed. “Sure, I’ll get some the next time.”</p><p>Both of them knew that this was a strategic evasion of answering Elrond’s question, but neither of them acknowledged it.</p><p>“So you’ve got an accent now,” Elrond said after the silence had gone on too long.</p><p>There was an aggravated sigh from the other end of the line. “Yes, brother dearest, I’m on a job. Congratu-fucking-lations, you figured it out. Can we talk about something else?”</p><p>Elrond perched on the countertop in his kitchen, mindlessly fingering a knife. “I am sorry to push.”</p><p>Elros sighed again. “No, you’re not. It’s your job.”</p><p>A truth – Elrond had a distinct inability to talk to people. Despite the fact that he had a (relatively) successful career as a detective in Washington, DC, he was still barely twenty three, and his people skills were much more accustomed to observing than to interacting.</p><p>Another truth – Elrond’s brother was, for all rights and legal purposes, dead. This did not stop him from being what basically amounted to a contract assassin.</p><p>These two facts led to a lot of conversational landmines.</p><p>“You’re being safe, right?” Elrond asked, almost reflexively, after yet another silence.</p><p>“Yes,” Elros said, with the long-suffering tone of an older sibling to a younger. “I am being safe.”</p><p>“Good,” Elrond replied. “Weird shit’s been happening, lately. Really weird.”</p><p>"You’re ever so articulate, aren’t you,” Elros said, although they both knew that Elrond allowed himself to be less than polished only under the safest conditions. Then Elros asked, “What do you mean?”</p><p>Elrond glanced down at the newspaper, sitting on the counter. <em>Wife and son of infamous politician dead in tragic accident. </em>“You know Finarfin Finwëan?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>This was, technically, another conversational landmine, but Elrond decided to move on from that. “His wife, and the third son…Aegnor? They died.”</p><p>“People die pretty often,” Elros told him. “Finarfin’s got a lot of enemies because of what his brothers did, and because of what he did.”</p><p>Elrond wished he could glare at his brother in person. He checked the article in the paper again. “It’s just sketchy. Finarfin hasn’t even come out and said anything, and all I can find on their deaths <em>anywhere</em> is ‘a tragic accident’. You know what else they labelled a tragic accident? Fingolfin Finwëan getting shot by his own brother, and then said brother mysteriously dying only days later. There’s so much about this family that doesn’t make sense.”</p><p>Elros said, “I think you need to get laid.”</p><p>Now it was Elrond’s turn to sigh. “I’m serious, Elros.”</p><p>“So am I,” Elros reminded him. “Don’t get wrapped up in that family. I get you like figuring stuff out cause you’re freakishly smart. But seriously. Don’t get involved in that. Even people I know don’t get what happened with them all, and that’s saying something.”</p><p>Elrond made a noncommittal noise, rolling the knife through his fingers.</p><p>“You’re gonna drive me to an early grave,” Elros said.</p><p>“You’re already dead,” Elrond reminded him. “I should probably go.”</p><p>“Hm,” Elros replied. “Stay safe, ok?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond said. “You too.”</p><p>The line went dead, and Elrond put his phone down. Elros wouldn’t call from that number again. Probably, he’d be in a different place next week. Elrond never knew where he was. They’d both decided it was better that way.</p><p>Elrond put the knife down gently and then got down from the counter. He picked up his grey cat, Erestor, and wandered over to his laptop.</p><p>He typed in, <em>Eärwen Finwëan death</em>, and frowned when the results came up short. He found the same article that had been in the newspaper, along with a short summary of Finarfin’s political career (corrupt, as many were). Elrond clicked on the next result, which was a conspiracy site.</p><p>Erestor meowed. “Yeah, yeah,” Elrond said. “Don’t tell Elros.”</p><p>He did not last long on the conspiracy site, as the distinct lack of common sense was infuriating. He was fairly certain that Finarfin had not left his brothers to die in Antarctica, nor had he shot his wife for conspiring against him to assassinate their children.</p><p>It was as that point, as Elrond was contemplating when his life had started to involve so many assassinations, that his doorbell rang.</p><p>Elrond froze, and glanced at the clock. It was only seven. But he was not expecting anyone, and it was already dark. He stood up, dumping Erestor onto the couch.</p><p>With the carefully born paranoia of a very questionable childhood (and a positive relationship with a brother who was, technically, a criminal) he palmed the knife from the kitchen counter. Then he unlocked his front door, and pulled it open just a bit.</p><p>“Hello,” he said pleasantly, making sure he had a good grip on the knife. “Can I help you with anything?”</p><p>The figure on the doorstep stood in plenty of light, but with a hood on, his face was hidden. “I was looking for one Elrond Tar-Minyatur.”</p><p>“That would be me,” Elrond said, but didn’t open the door any further.</p><p>“May I come in?” The guy asked.</p><p>Elrond looked towards his hood. “May I ask your name?”</p><p>The man laughed a little bit. “I suppose fair is fair.” He pulled off his hood, revealing dark skin, friendly eyes, and strands of something shining woven through his black braids. He also pulled out a badge, and flashed it in Elrond’s face. “Fingon. FBI.”</p><p>Elrond’s mind went, <em>oh shit</em>. “No last name?”</p><p>Fingon smiled at him. It seemed nice, but Elrond had learned not to trust nice people. “I don’t tend to use it in polite company.”</p><p>“Let’s hear it anyway.”</p><p>Fingon’s smile slipped, and his eyes turned cold. “Fingon Finwëan. May I come in now?”</p><p>Elrond thought resignedly that Elros might kill him, but curiosity won out. “Sure.”</p><p>Elrond took Fingon’s coat, and then led him into the living room. He normally kept the rooms dark, on account of light bothering him. In these circumstances, he deemed it an inconvenience, and flipped the light switch.</p><p>Fingon took a seat on the couch, so Elrond perched on an armchair. He picked up Erestor to mask the motion of putting down the knife, but ensured it was still within easy reach. Then he took a glance over Fingon.</p><p>It had been a nice suit underneath the coat, which made sense, considering who his family probably was. (Finwëan wasn’t a common last name.) There was mud on his shoes; he definitely hadn’t been in the city today. There was a thin wedding ring on his finger, and what looked like a pale band of skin where an engagement ring might go, were he a woman. He was slimly built, but Elrond figured with the large knife that was on his person, he probably knew how to fight.</p><p>No gun, though. Elrond thanked whichever god was watching over him for that. Guns were his brother’s thing, not his. “So what do you need, sir?”</p><p>Fingon laughed. “I haven’t been called sir in a while. Just stopped by to ask you a few questions.”</p><p>Elrond waited.</p><p>There was amusement still flickering on Fingon’s face as he pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket. “What was your childhood like, Elrond?”</p><p>Elrond blinked. “This is related to FBI business?”</p><p>“Of a sort,” Fingon replied, which did not instill Elrond with confidence.</p><p>“You know my name,” Elrond said. “I am sure you also therefore know what my childhood was like.”</p><p>“You were put in foster care at fourteen years old, with a sibling.”</p><p>Elrond nodded.</p><p>“The both of you jumped homes. You were placed in an accelerated program for the gifted, while your brother was placed in juvie. Once released from the foster care system, you went to college for criminal forensics, and he burned a building down with himself inside of it.”</p><p>Elrond flinched, as would be expected of him. Damn Elros and his flair for drama.</p><p>“I apologize for my bluntness. Suffice to say, I am not here to ask you about your time in the foster system, nor to take issue with your current job.”</p><p>Elrond looked Fingon in the eyes. “I have not yet heard you ask any questions.”</p><p>“The question, Elrond, is what happened before you were put in foster care.” Fingon unfolded the piece of paper. “Do you recognize anyone in this photograph?”</p><p>Elrond looked at the picture. It was photocopied, and old. Four people, the man and the woman elegantly dressed, their hands on the shoulders of two dark-haired boys. But it was the boys that were strange. They were a dead ringer for what Elros and Elrond had looked like when they were younger, right down to the slit in Elros’ eyebrow.</p><p>“No,” Elrond said.</p><p>Fingon’s eyes rested evenly on him. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Fairly, yes.”</p><p>“Elrond isn’t a very common name.”</p><p>“Neither is Finwëan, with all due respect.”</p><p>“A fair point. But I will ask you again – what happened before you were put in foster care?”</p><p>Elrond would have liked to clench his teeth, but he had been told to stop doing that. What had happened before foster care?</p><p>(<em>Running, blood, scaredscaredscared – “Here is how you hold a knife. I don’t want you hurt, little one. Learn how to fight, and then you can learn how to stop the fight.” Elros was missing, and Elrond didn’t know where he’d gone, and – bright lights. Too many bright lights.</em>)</p><p>“Not a lot,” he said. “I don’t remember much, especially not of my parents.”</p><p>Were the people in that picture his parents? No. Even if they were, the people who abandoned him and Elros were not his parents. (<em>“Maitimo, why can’t we call you and Makalaurë dad?</em>”)</p><p>“Ah,” Fingon said. He pulled out another picture, this one in pristine condition. “Do you recognize these people?”</p><p>And…there was a younger Fingon, with shorter braids and a more carefree smile. And Maitimo, red-haired (though Elrond had only ever known him with bottle brown hair) and tall and gangly, happier than he’d ever looked, his right arm (not a prosthetic) around Fingon. And Makalaurë, mid-laugh, with long, dark hair, hair that had been sheared close to his head for all the time he’d been with Elrond and Elros.</p><p>Elrond tried to rein in his obvious shock, but he wasn’t sure if he was successful.</p><p>“I see,” Fingon said quietly, and then pulled the picture back just as suddenly. He tucked it away carefully, like it was something precious.</p><p>Elrond realized that, for the first time in three years, he might have to find a way to call Elros first. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Do you know where they are?” Fingon asked, and his friendly voice was suddenly very intense.</p><p>Elrond gave up on pretending Fingon didn’t know. “No,” Elrond said. “I have no clue where they are.” (<em>“They left us, Elrond, they left us! Don’t you understand? They left, because they don’t fucking want us.</em>”)</p><p>“Are you certain?”</p><p>Elrond frowned. “Yes, I am certain. Are you certain you’re an FBI agent?”</p><p>Fingon blinked. “Well – ”</p><p>“Oh, so you’re <em>not </em>FBI. Whose badge did you pinch?” Elrond put Erestor down. “What do you want with me?”</p><p>Fingon sighed, and a little bit of that intensity left with it. “Calm down, kid. It’s my badge, it’s just a little out of date.”</p><p>“You got fired,” Elrond said, but that didn’t fit. “No; you left. Why?”</p><p>“Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit creepy?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I <em>left</em>,” Fingon said, emphasizing it, “to find the men in the picture. Maglor, and Maedhros.” He twisted his wedding band.</p><p>“Which one?” Elron asked, almost curious now. Neither Maitimo nor Makalaurë had ever mentioned being married. He couldn’t imagine either of them married. They’d only ever been sad, and travel-worn, and tired, right up until they left the twins –</p><p>“Which one what?”</p><p>“Which one are you married to,” Elrond said impatiently.</p><p>“Maedhros,” Fingon replied. His eyes sharpened. “Maitimo, to his family.”</p><p>“Ah,” Elrond said, and then remembered a chain around Maitimo’s neck that had never, ever, come off. “You’re looking for him.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fingon said. “I’m looking for him. And Maglor.”</p><p>(<em>Maglor: Makalaurë. Maedhros: Maitimo. “Our family was complicated, little one. Too complicated.</em>") “How long?” Elrond blurted out.</p><p>“Sixteen years,” Fingon said softly. “Give or take a few months.”</p><p>Elrond glanced over him, and – <em>most people wouldn’t keep a wedding ring that long. How would Maitimo evade this man for fifteen years? This man was tired, and weary, and…obsessed?</em> <em>Wrong word. Not obsessed. Possessed. </em>“What made him leave?” Elrond asked. Erestor meowed, and he picked him up absently.</p><p>Fingon didn’t like that question. His eyes got a little cold again. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“Kid, this is not your – ”</p><p>“You only call me kid when you’re uncomfortable. What made him leave?”</p><p>Fingon sighed. “I can’t tell you that.”</p><p>Elrond scowled. “Why not? Come on, we have both acknowledged we have information the other wants.”</p><p>“I can’t tell you,” Fingon said, and he looked a little sly now, the friendliness back in his face. “But I can help you figure it out. If you really want to know, guess you’ll just have to give me a call.”</p><p>Elrond almost ground his teeth in frustration. This whole time, Fingon had him figured out just as well as Elrond had. Elros was not going to like this.</p><p>Fingon pulled out the picture, the one that had the family on it. He took a pen, and scribbled a phone number down. Elrond reached for it, trying not to look too eager, but Fingon held onto one end.</p><p>“You can have this,” Fingon said. “That family? They’re called the Peredhels.” He stood up. “Thank you, Elrond. This has been most enlightening.”</p><p>Elrond, disgruntled, did not show him the door. Instead, he examined the picture.</p><p>The unfortunate truth was that it had to be Elros and Elrond; yet in this picture they couldn’t be more than five or six. Elrond didn’t remember much from that age, just a huge, empty house, and climbing trees with Elros. He had one or two memories of a warm voice and motherly hands, but it all faded compared to the explosion, too-bright lights and too-loud sounds and –</p><p>(<em>“Little one. Are you ok?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Where’s my brother?” </em>
</p><p><em>“He’s right over there, don’t</em> worry."</p><p>
  <em>Dark eyes. Soot on his face, and a prosthetic on one arm. Elrond was scared. “Who are you? Are you going to hurt us?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, little one. We aren’t going to hurt you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not dark eyes. Those were sad eyes. “What’s your name?”</em>
</p><p><em>“You may call me Maitimo. Your brother is with </em> <em>Makalaurë. You need to stand up. Elrond, I need you to stand up.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“How do you know my name?”</em>
</p><p><em>“You need to stand up, little one. We’re going to keep you safe. I promise.</em>”)</p><p>“Fuck,” Elrond said, and stood up, dumping Erestor on the ground. “Sorry.”</p><p>Erestor gave him a baleful look.</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Elrond responded. “I have to tell Elros, don’t I.”</p><p>He detoured to the countertop to grab his phone and replace the knife, then made his way back over to his laptop. He opened his recent calls, and clicked on the number that Elros had called from. As it rang, he started typing the name <em>Peredhel </em>into google.</p><p>Neither were successful. Elros didn’t pick up, and the google search yielded only a strange article about the lineage of a wealthy family. Elrond skimmed it half-heartedly, until the picture caught his eye.</p><p>It was the same man and woman who were in the paper on the table.</p><p>
  <em>Unfortunately, the lives of the ‘lord and lady Peredhel’ are unknown even to this day. Despite a massive inheritance and a great-grandmother who was in line for the British throne, the pair were extremely reclusive, often disappearing for weeks on end from their seaside mansion. In the strange explosion that became known as the Peredhel Incident, their home was levelled, and multiple bodies were pulled from the ruins. Among them were both Elwing and Eärendil.</em>
</p><p>“Fuck,” Elrond said again, with feeling.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He was at work the next day when he got the letter.</p><p>“Tar-Minyatur,” someone called. “You got mail.”</p><p>“You know you can call me Elrond,” Elrond responded absently, looking at the pictures of Aegnor Finwëan. Or rather, what used to be Aegnor Finwëan. Now it was just a severed head in a plastic bag, and most of a body. “Tar-Minyatur is a bit of a mouthful.” It looked like Aegnor had fought back. For that, it seemed, the assailant had put his hands through the garbage disposal.</p><p>That was a rather aggressive tactic, Elrond decided.</p><p>“Your whole name is a bit of a mouthful,” Gildor said. “Dude, what the fuck. Where did you find those?”</p><p>Elrond glanced up and hurriedly clicked away from it. “Inside source.”</p><p>Gildor squinted at him, and then shrugged. “Mail.” He tossed it on Elrond’s desk.</p><p>“What is this?” Elrond asked, reaching for a letter opener.</p><p>“Hell if I know, mate.”</p><p>Elrond frowned. There was no return address, and it said <em>Elrond Tar-Minyatur </em>in flowing cursive. He wasn’t really sure that anyone else had that name, so it probably wasn’t a mistake. It was flat, not oddly shaped, for all intents and purposes a normal piece of mail. He shrugged, and slit the envelope.</p><p>It was…a normal piece of mail. He was rather glad about that, up until he skimmed the contents.</p><p><em>I am sure you are aware of your Finwëan connections. </em>Elrond frowned. What? His Finwëan connections?</p><p>He kept reading.</p><p>
  <em>Unfortunately, the Finwëans are an infestation. And like all infestations, they need to be put out. </em>
</p><p>The author of the note continued on in this dramatic vein for a little while, until –</p><p><em>An exchange. Your little Secrets, for your lives. </em>What secrets? Why was it capitalized? Elrond hated people who did that.</p><p><em>I’m sure you’ve already seen the news about the dear patriarch of the family, and what happened when he refused. </em>Oh. Aegnor, and Eärwen, and Aegnor’s hands in the garbage disposal<em>. </em>Elrond curled his lip.</p><p>
  <em>So let’s play a game, little Finwëan. Thirty five days. Tick tock. </em>
</p><p>A stylized M was the only signature.</p><p>“Hey, Gildor,” Elrond called. “Where’d you say this came from?”</p><p>“Don’t know. Came from the boss.”</p><p>“Hm. I’m going to step outside for a minute.”</p><p>As Elrond did so, he reassessed several things. Then he gritted his teeth and clicked the one number in his phone he did not enjoy calling.</p><p>“Hello, darling.” And the Australian accent was just as douchey as it had been the last time Elrond had talked to him.</p><p>“I’d like to talk to my brother,” Elrond said stiffly.</p><p>“Oh, baby boy, how’s it going? We haven’t talked in a while!”</p><p>“Tyelkormo, would you please put me on with my brother?”</p><p>“Oh, I like it when you say please. Still got those nice cheekbones?”</p><p>Elrond did not have many issues with what his brother had chosen to do in life. However, his acquaintance with the shadowy figure that Elrond only knew as Tyelkormo was one of them.</p><p>There was a scrabbling sound in the background, and a muted, “What the fuck, Tyelko,” before Elros hopped on the line. “What’s up? Are you ok?”</p><p>Elrond evaluated his current situation. “Yeah, I’m alright.”</p><p>The silence that emanated from Elros was expectant and exhausted. “So,” he finally ventured. “The last time you called Tyelko was when that guy shot you.”</p><p>“Oh,” Elrond said. “No, nothing that bad. Just. Well, you know how we were talking about those Finwëan murders.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Elros said.</p><p>“Things went slightly downhill.”</p><p>“What the hell did you do?”</p><p>“I didn’t do anything. It’s just, well…”</p><p>It took the better part of ten minutes for Elrond to explain Fingon’s visit, Fingon’s connection to their childhood guardians (questionably?), the small bit of information Elrond had found on the internet regarding their parents (possibly?), along with the letter he had gotten and the connection to the late Eärwen and Aegnor Finwëan.</p><p>When he was done, Elros blew out a short breath, and then said, “Leave it.”</p><p>“No,” Elrond protested. “I’m not going to leave it, just because you said so. There’s so much going on here, and now I’m directly involved, and indirectly, so are you. And…” He trailed off. “Don’t you want to find them?”</p><p>“No.” His brother’s tone was tight and sharp.</p><p>Elrond huffed. “And why not? Don’t you want to know what happened? Don’t you want to know how they got us? Don’t you want to know where they went?”</p><p>“I said no,” Elros snapped. “Look. I went searching for them a couple years ago. I thought, now I have connections. Maybe someone will know. But nobody did. It’s like they never existed. All I found was this asshole.”</p><p>Elrond was a bit confused as to how Tyelkormo factored in, and he voiced that.</p><p>“That’s not his real name. His real name is Celegorm, and he’s related somehow to Maitimo and Makalaurë. Sibling, or cousin, or something. Either way, their entire family just, poof. Like they never existed. Not in the news, not on the internet. Only things you get are rumors. It’s sketchy, like you said. And now this? The letter sounds like some dumbass with a penchant for drama, and Finarfin’s wife and son might just be a coincidence. But still. I don’t want you getting involved. C’mon, Elrond, one of us has to live.”</p><p>“One of us is living,” Elrond pointed out, and then, as tended to happen, his curiosity won out. “You can’t stop me.”</p><p>“You – ” Elros cut himself off, and then added in a couple nasty sounding words in another language. Arabic, Elrond was pretty sure. “Damn it, El.”</p><p>“I’ll keep you updated,” Elrond said. “I’m going to call Fingon now.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare hang up on me, you – ”</p><p>Elrond hung up on him. Then he dialed the number Fingon had given him last night.</p><p>“Hello. Yes, this is Elrond Tar-Minyatur. Yes. I’d like to help. I believe we have a lot to talk about, Finwëan.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which elrond begins to frequent a very odd restaurant, and gets exactly the wrong kind of visitor.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry, hell of a lot of exposition. but! hopefully things make more sense now. thanks for tolerating my random mess of a brain child :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a different time zone, in a different country, Elros Tar-Minyatur mentally used as many insults he knew in as many languages he had picked up to describe his little brother.</p><p>Of all the damned things to do.</p><p>Elros and Elrond led separate lives. It was easier that way, considering the vastly different worlds that they existed in. But they’d tended to agree on things, since Elros left the world of school uniforms and legal rights and trusting people who knew how to hold guns. They’d tended to agree, right up until yesterday.</p><p>The Finwëan family was dangerous. Too dangerous to get involved in. Elros had seen firsthand the way that Tyelko’s face twisted into a cruel smile sometimes when he carved a bloody star across someone’s chest. The rumors about the red-haired twins, Ambarussa, and how they’d beaten seven people to death with a whiskey bottle and a hammer and a giggle. (<em>And the frost that used to creep into Maitimo’s eyes, and the paranoia in Makalaurë’s voice, and really, was it normal to have grown up learning how to shoot and run and hit where it hurt</em>? <em>Elros had never realized it, how much they’d encouraged his violence, until he got into a foster home and got hit for picking up a knife. </em></p><p><em>Normal boys didn’t enjoy the sight of blood. Normal boys didn’t hide knives under their pillows. Normal boys didn’t long for the people who’d left them behind.</em>)</p><p>Elros even had heard of Fingon. The name was new, but Tyelko recognized it, and told him – the perfect little cousin, the best and brightest of the family, and then his siblings fractured apart and his husband disappeared (<em>really, Maitimo</em>? <em>swapped him out for two little kids and then you couldn’t even stick with us</em>) and now, Elros had heard, Fingon had done some unsavory things in his searching, hadn’t he.</p><p>Elros shifted his weight minutely. It was just him, today – because even though Tyelko and Elros tended to come as a matched pair, occasionally things called for a bit of subtlety.</p><p>Sometimes people didn’t want subtlety. Sometimes people wanted limbs taken off, and electricity on skin, and that Joker’s smile, carving someone open slowly and bloodily, like so many flowers in a jar. When they did, they called Tyelko, Bright Eyes, and he let his sanity run down the drain, and Elros at his back with a nice glock and a blank stare.</p><p>Tyelko didn’t really do subtlety. Elros did. It was a good agreement, and it left Elros with an easy way to contact his twin brother, and at no point in time did he think that Elrond might be strung up and butchered like a chicken.</p><p>His asshole brother, who had just managed to walk into something much bigger than himself, and now Elros was no longer certain. Something was moving in the shadows of the underbelly, and it wasn’t related to any of the big families out of the US. And yet it had to have something to do with those godforsaken letters, and the possibility of moving some big weapons overseas, and in the meantime, what was the grudge against the Finwëans, other than that they were almost all of them pretentious sons of bitches?</p><p>His thoughts halted as something changed. He froze. Air was moving differently through the room, and – he spun around, just in time to block the gun that was pressing forward towards his head.</p><p>He hissed as the gun discharged towards the floor – lovely, that would make a lot of noise – and yanked out a knife. He dodged towards the man’s legs, which tended to disorient people, and sliced at the back of his knee. The man went down with a slug and another attempt to aim the gun, and Elros slashed at the wrist. The gun dropped, and Elrond picked it up and fired it into the man’s head.</p><p>“Bloody fucking hell,” Elros said quietly, wincing, because the man had a solid punch. He wavered for a minute, then dashed down the stairs and out the back door and away. Hopefully Tyelko would know someone in this twice-damned city who could come pick up the body, or better yet, know someone who could figure out who the <em>fuck </em>had just tried to kill him.</p><p>And then of all things, his target had already gotten in his car and pulled away, and by the time Elros managed to find him, he was dead, and a fair amount of his innards had been used to paint a bloody M on the side of the car.</p><p>“Well, hell,” Elros said.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That evening saw Elrond wrapping himself up in a scarf and a long coat, feeling suitably Sherlock-esque, and hurrying through the brisk air to the address Fingon had sent him.</p><p>Were Elros here, he reflected, he would certainly be giving a lecture on safety, and being careful, and not taking candy from strangers. For the fact that Elros’ job frequently required jumping out of windows and or shooting people, he was rather overly safety-oriented when it came to Elrond.</p><p>Elrond was pretty sure he’d be alright. He had a few knives on him, and a taser, and besides, Fingon had already had a good chance to kill him and hadn’t taken it.</p><p>He walked down side streets, enjoying the chill of the wind. The lights were bright, the people hurrying past all absorbed in their own lives. It was nice to be observing, after having had to interact all day. He glanced around, looking at some of the signs that hung on the buildings – <em>Varda Gilthoniel for President, Melkor Bauglir for President. </em></p><p>Then he sped up, recognizing the street name ahead, and found himself outside a peculiar little place called Lothlórien<em>. </em>It was the very definition of ‘hole in the wall’, with fairy lights around the door and a bit of outdoor seating, all of it emanating coziness and warmth from within. Elrond paused a moment, double-checked the address, and then opened the door. A bell jingled as he stepped inside, although it was barely noticeable over the quiet hum of conversation. The décor was somewhere between vintage diner and outdoor music festival, and they appeared to serve everything from cocktails to grilled cheese sandwiches to chocolate chip muffins.</p><p>Elrond absorbed all of this, and then realized he had no clue what he was supposed to do. Fortunately, he was saved from having to approach the counter as he saw Fingon stand up across the room, in a little booth by the wall.</p><p>Elrond walked over and then slid into the booth across from Fingon, unwrapping his scarf and draping his coat on the end of the seat.</p><p>Fingon smiled, and in the light of the diner he looked less weary. Today, Elrond noticed, he was wearing an engagement ring alongside his wedding band. “How are you today, Elrond?”</p><p>“I am alright,” Elrond replied politely. “And you?”</p><p>“As well as can be expected,” Fingon said. “Did you happen to take a menu as you walked in?”</p><p>Elrond had not. Fingon seemed to have expected this, and handed his own over.</p><p>“They already know my order,” Fingon explained. “I come here fairly often. I would recommend the cheeseburger. Galadriel and Celeborn, the owners, they’re vegan, but they sure do make good food.”</p><p>Elrond nodded, and soon a waiter came around to collect their order.</p><p>Fingon glanced up. “Hello, Haldir.”</p><p>The waiter, Haldir, grinned. “Hey, Fingon. The usual?”</p><p>“Yes, thank you.”</p><p>Haldir scribbled that down, then turned to Elrond. “And for you?”</p><p>“The chef salad, please, without the bacon.” Elrond handed Haldir the menu with a polite smile. He waited for Haldir to walk away, and then he said, “I got a letter.”</p><p>Fingon froze. “Did you now. Signed M?”</p><p>Elrond nodded, and wondered when his life had become a murder mystery novel.</p><p>“Hm,” Fingon said. “That is. Hm.”</p><p>“Do you know any more about what it meant?” Elrond asked, attempting not to be too eager.</p><p>“I do,” Fingon said. “But let’s wait until after we eat.” He paused. “And Elrond? Galadriel, one of the owners – she’s my cousin. Doesn’t have the last name anymore, and I don’t fault her for it, but she’s Finarfin and Eärwen’s daughter. Have a care to what you say.”</p><p>Elrond glanced down, feeling only slightly reprimanded.</p><p>Fingon moved on. “So you’re a detective, yes?”</p><p>Elrond eyed him. “Didn’t you say you are no longer FBI?”</p><p>Fingon had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Yes.”</p><p>“Yet you’re still using their systems to look me up?”</p><p>“Well…look, kid, my illegal acts are definitely a lot less illegal than yours.”</p><p>Elrond blinked innocently at him. “What illegal acts? I am a paragon of law and order. I am a <em>shining example</em> for the future generation.”</p><p>Fingon laughed. “Careful there, it almost sounds like you like me.”</p><p>Elrond frowned. “I don’t…dislike you?”</p><p>“That wasn’t the impression from the other night.”</p><p>“I think I should be awarded some slack considering you just about shoved your way into my house.”</p><p>“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Fingon offered. “Though you didn’t really seem scared.”</p><p>“Good,” Elrond said. “And it is alright; I still haven’t decided if I trust you or not.”</p><p>“Fair’s fair,” Fingon replied. “I hope that you’ll trust me a little more after tonight.”</p><p>“That remains to be seen,” Elrond said, although he was a little thrown off by how earnest Fingon seemed. When he’d arrived on Elrond’s doorstep, he had been every inch the mysterious, world-weary stranger. Here, in the homey light of the diner (bar? cafe?), Elrond got a glimpse of the person that, it seemed, had made Maitimo smile so happily. Elrond could already feel himself becoming comfortable with Fingon, which could be dangerous if Fingon ended up not being the person he said he was.</p><p>A couple minutes later their food arrived, and Elrond gave a small laugh when he saw what Fingon had ordered.</p><p>“The best blueberry pancakes I’ve ever had,” Fingon said, with only slight embarrassment.</p><p>“Good answer,” said the man who’d delivered the plates. “You know she’s the one who makes them.”</p><p>“Of course,” Fingon replied. “That’s why I get them.”</p><p>The man nodded, and then looked at Elrond. Elrond looked back. The guy was tall, with long hair bleached almost white. He wore tie-dyed skinny jeans and a knit sweater, and despite the fact that he was certainly in his late thirties to early forties, he gave off the impression of a deer that had recently smoked pot.</p><p>“Celeborn,” the man introduced himself. “Celeborn Galadhon.” Behind the hippie vibes, his eyes were sharp. “I take it you’re Elrond?”</p><p>“Yes,” Elrond said. Had Fingon talked about him?</p><p>Celeborn analyzed him for another few seconds, and then gave a loose smile. “Welcome to the madhouse, little Fëanorian. Enjoy your salad.” He strode away.</p><p>Elrond blinked at the aforementioned salad. “Was that strange?”</p><p>“No,” Fingon said. “That’s just Celeborn.”</p><p>“What did he call me?”</p><p>Fingon sighed, and began buttering his pancakes. “Alright. There’s a lot of information to take in. And if you feel like you need me to draw out a family tree, I can.”</p><p>“It can’t be that complicated,” Elrond said, thinking about some of the things he had discovered through beginning his career in law enforcement.</p><p>“Technically, Maitimo and I are step cousins,” Fingon said dryly.</p><p>Elrond almost spit out his mouthful of salad. “What?”</p><p>Fingon took a bite of pancake. “Ok. Keep this all quiet, you know. Don’t need anybody else up in family business. Alright?” The light in his eyes was, for a moment, fractured and cold. Even eating pancakes that were practically drowning in syrup, Elrond could see again the man who’d visited him the other night – relentless, desperate, possessed.</p><p>“Alright,” Elrond agreed.</p><p>“Good,” Fingon said. “Because if you do anything with this information, I believe that my past employers would be very happy to know what your brother is up to.”</p><p>Fingon certainly had done his research, Elrond thought, and tried not to show his intense curiosity as to how he’d found Elros. “Alright,” he said again. His brother had no choice but to get involved now.</p><p>Fingon relaxed minutely, and then he was back to cheerfully eating his pancakes. “So you’ve got Grandpa Finwëan. He’s the very top of this whole complicated tree, and he was kind of an asshole. He worked in the steel business, and left behind a metric fuck ton of money. He married a woman named Míriel, and they had one kid, a boy named Fëanor.”</p><p>“That’s – ” Elrond started to interrupt, but Fingon cut him off with a hand.</p><p>“From what I’ve heard, Míriel was pretty cool. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth, so we never knew her. So now Grandpa Finwëan, rat bastard that he was, has a kid who’s way too smart to for him, and a wife who’s dead. So what does he do? He gets himself another wife. That’s my grandmother, Indis. Grandma was pretty nice, if a bit distant. So she comes along and gives Grandpa four children – Fingolfin, Finarfin, Findis, and Írimë. Soon enough, the old parents kick the bucket, and now there’s the four kids, all pretty close in age, and Fëanor, who doesn’t like his half siblings very much. So that’s the uncomplicated part.”</p><p>Elrond nodded, still having absolutely no clue where he fit into this. He also didn’t know how he’d managed to miss all this information in his research on the Finwëan family.</p><p>“So…damn, I’m not sure where to start. Well, Aunt Findis and Aunt Írimë just kind of fucked right off when all the family drama started, and I think Írimë stayed in touch only with my dad. So my father was Fingolfin Finwëan – as you may have known. He and my mother had me, my brothers Turgon and Argon, and my sister Aredhel. Then you’ve got our cousins – Uncle Finarfin’s kids: Finrod, Angrod, Aegnor, and Galadriel.” Here, for a moment, his eyes were sad, before he blinked it away. “And then last, you’ve got Fëanor, and his wife Nerdanel. Because Fëanor really didn’t like the rest of us, for a while, his whole brood took the last name ‘Fëanorian’, in an effort to distance themselves. But anyway, Nerdanel popped out seven kids – Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod and Amras…why are you making that face?”</p><p>Elrond quickly smoothed out his features, while internally he couldn’t help but wince. Fingon was related to Tyelkormo? Poor soul. “No reason.”</p><p>Fingon eyed him, but continued. “So the issue is that Fëanor was experimenting with stuff that was…really dangerous.”</p><p>Elrond squinted at Fingon. “Really dangerous.” He said flatly. “Care to elaborate?”</p><p>Fingon closed his eyes briefly. “You better keep this quiet, kid.” He leaned closer, over his almost-finished pancakes. “Weapons. Explosives, guns, the like. He thought it was fun. Lucky for him, the military thought it was fun too, and they started buying them. So now Fëanor’s got money from this, except there’s all these secrecy clauses, and Nerdanel doesn’t know anything about where it’s coming from, and neither do the rest of us. And then, well, this the rest of us found out later, but then the government started suspecting Fëanor. Turns out, he’d been selling to the military, but he’d also been selling to terrorist groups in the Middle East.”</p><p>“Oh,” Elrond said.</p><p>“Yeah,” Fingon said, and sighed. “<em>Oh</em>. So now things get complicated. Finarfin and Fingolfin are suspecting their brother, and Uncle Finarfin is beginning his political career, and my father has taken over what remains of Grandpa’s empire, and now the three brothers are fighting. Maedhros and I were just sort of falling in love, and there were a lot of tense family dinners, because Uncle Finarfin and my father didn’t completely agree on everything either. And then we find out that Nerdanel and Fëanor are getting divorced, and Maedhros starts telling me about something his father has been muttering about. Something called a Silmaril.”</p><p>Fingon paused here, like Elrond should be appropriately awed, but he had no clue what Fingon meant. “What’s a Silmaril?”</p><p>“Fëanor’s prototype for an insanely destructive chemical bomb. He made three of them.”</p><p>Elrond wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask exactly how destructive it could be. From the look on Fingon’s face, he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.</p><p>“So what happened next,” Elrond ventured to ask.</p><p>“Fingolfin, my dad, turned him in to the government. I think he was concerned about Fëanor’s kids, and I think he was concerned about what Fëanor would do with the bombs, but I think he also wanted the power. That’s what all this came down to in the end. Power.” Fingon sighed. “Those were bloody months. The family fractured down the middle, and Maedhros and I married, and then Finarfin used his position to demand a manhunt for Fëanor, who’d disappeared with the prototypes. His sons knew where he’d gone, but no one else did, and then there was suspicion all around, and then suddenly there started being casualties. Finarfin, my father, Fëanor – they were locked in this deadly battle, and they didn’t care who it affected. Anyone else was just collateral damage. Fëanor left a trail of destruction, and my father was relentless in trying to find him, and all of us cousins were…we were horrible. We helped, and some of that blood is on our hands. And on and on, until finally, some higher ups in the government seemed to realize that this had spiraled out of their control. They were going to stop us, take Finarfin out of office, and then one day Fëanor just up and…”</p><p>Elrond knew what came here. “You don’t have to say it.”</p><p>“My father died,” Fingon said quietly. “And a few days later, Fëanor hung himself from the beams of a warehouse in Michigan and blew it up, and my dear uncle gave the infamous statement about how much his brothers deserved their deaths. The Silmarils went to Fëanor’s sons, and then it was us against them all over again, replaying the mistakes of our fathers. And then there was an incident.”</p><p>Something niggled in the back of Elrond’s mind, but he ignored it.</p><p>“One of the Silmarils exploded, and Caranthir, Fëanor’s fourth son, died. And that was the end of it, really. Amrod and Amras went to prison, even with how young they were. Celegorm and Curufin disappeared, and Maglor and Maedhros took the two remaining Silmarils and vanished. And from there, you know just as much as I do. The FBI came in, covered everything up, made sure that nobody knew where the Silmarils went.” He smiled, kind of harshly. “They covered everything up to hide the fact that they’d completely lost four of Fëanor’s sons. The rest of us were told to be quiet, or uncle would lose his seat and the rest of us might get investigated for our own parts.” He spread his hands. “So that was the not-so-glamorous end of the whole Finwëan family. Now we’re just the broken shitshows that you see.”</p><p>Elrond chewed his salad, and absorbed all the information that had just been thrown at him. He connected the dots that hadn’t made sense, and puzzled over the ones that still didn’t. But over and over, he kept coming back to one thing.</p><p>"The Peredhel incident,” he said quietly.</p><p>Fingon, now, just looked very sad. “Yes.”</p><p>So Maitimo and Makalaurë hadn’t just randomly found him and Elros. They and their brothers had put a bomb in the house, and then blown it. <em>That </em>had been the deadly explosion that killed their parents, and one of their own. It made sense, now that Elrond thought about it, but life was strange and distasteful like that. Flowers and smoke. Kind words and bombs. Not too different, and impermanent all the same. “Why?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Fingon said. “There are a lot of things that I don’t know about back then. I don’t know why they did what they did. I don’t think they meant for the Silmaril to explode. I…want to believe that they didn’t mean for it to explode.”</p><p>Elrond’s mind whirled back and forth. Maitimo and Makalaurë. His parents’ death. “Why are you still looking for him?”</p><p>Fingon looked kind of surprised. “Because I love him.”</p><p>Elrond thought about that. “Yeah,” he finally agreed.</p><p>(<em>“Little one, you need to learn how to use the gun.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want to kill it!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s a bear. None of us want to kill it, but in the end, if it is charging towards you, you need to be able to defend yourself.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Maitimo, no, please!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You need to, little one. Someday, there will be more than just bears trying to hurt you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nelyo, stop, you’re scaring him.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Káno, we don’t have a choice.”</em>
</p><p><em>Makalaurë readjusted Elrond’s grip. “Here. It’s alright. I don’t like guns much either, but sometimes we must use them. Learn how to shoot, and then I will teach you how to throw knives, alright?”</em>)</p><p>Elrond blinked, clearing the memory away. “How do you just volunteer all these secrets?” Then he winced. That was much more abrupt than he’d meant it to be.</p><p>Fingon laughed bitterly. “Because even after all these years, I still am not used to keeping so many.”</p><p>“Ah,” Elrond said. He wished Elros was here.</p><p>“So now you have the gist of it. That’s why Celeborn called you that, and that’s why you got a letter.” Fingon’s face darkened. “And why…well, why I want your help. I would have ignored the letters, but there’s something up with this all. I can’t help but wonder if the ‘Secrets’ is the Silmarils, and Galadriel shares my worry. And you were the last to see him. Them. Maybe this is finally our chance to find them.”</p><p>Fingon rubbed his face, looking tired again. It was getting late, Elrond realized.</p><p>Elrond let him have a moment of quiet as he thought. He wanted to write it down. He wanted to puzzle it out, and connect it all, and find the spaces where things didn’t make sense. There were a lot of those, it seemed.</p><p>Man, Elros was going to <em>murder </em>him.</p><p>“Where did you go, with them?” Fingon asked suddenly.</p><p>It took Elrond a moment to figure out what he meant. “Mostly Alaska,” he said honestly.</p><p>“That’s good,” Fingon said softly. “He always loved the mountains.”</p><p>(<em>The sky, big and blue. The earth, stretching brown and green all the way to the foot of the mountains. And the mountains that reached so high with their snow-covered peaks, crowns of silver for rocky giants. </em><em>The land they’d lived off of, the world around them so big and alien that anything human looked out of place. </em></p><p>
  <em>Maitimo, taking them on long hikes and teaching them math at night after he got home. Makalaurë, showing them how to skin a deer and making them write everyday before running off. The tiny house, owned by an Athabaskan man named Olórin who’d rented it to them without asking questions. The long nights by the fire in the winter, when the dark seemed like it would last forever, and Maitimo would come home from his latest odd job to find Makalaurë writing the twins some new song. The summer, the days of the never-setting sun where Elrond could go hours and hours without speaking to anyone, helping Makalaurë in the garden. The comfortable silences that came later, when the twins began hunting on their own, quiet until Elros brought something down and Elrond methodically skinned it, so they could have just a little more when Maitimo was in too much pain to wear his prosthetic. Swimming in freezing mountain streams, wildflowers in a jar by the window, how Maitimo always smelled like woodsmoke and Makalaurë always smelled like the earth. Maitimo’s faded copper ponytail, Makalaurë’s shaggy mop, laughter over the sink as Elrond and Elros cut their hair with hunting shears, and – </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gunshots. Sirens, and being chased, and </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We have to go somewhere else, Nelyo. Somewhere far away. We can’t stay here any longer. They’re not safe.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You think I don’t know that, Káno?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No. The mountains. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Olórin’s calm face, and Elros’ scared, and where were Maitimo and Makalaurë? They should be back, they should have been back –</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The explosion. The one they caused.</em>
</p><p><em>“No, little one. We aren’t going to hurt you.”</em>)</p><p>Elrond shook his head out of the past. “It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>Fingon closed his eyes, and then a musical voice called out, “Finno, what are you still doing here?”</p><p>Elrond watched as Fingon’s eyes snapped open, his tired face dropped, and he pulled a smile on. “Artanis! Come here, I have someone for you to meet.”</p><p>A woman walked over, holding a plate with cookies on it. She was blue-eyed and golden-haired, Dutch braids falling most of the way down her back. She wore clothing not unlike Celeborn’s, tie-dye and knitwear and gauzy pants, and somehow it only served to emphasize her ethereal beauty.</p><p>“This is my cousin, Galadriel,” Fingon told Elrond. “And Galadriel, this is Elrond.”</p><p> Galadriel’s features were proud and blank as she looked at Elrond.</p><p>“It is nice to meet you,” Elrond offered.</p><p>Galadriel looked at Fingon. “He’s the same age as Celebrían.”</p><p>Fingon scoffed. “Your daughter is a paramedic, and he works with the police. Both of them are plenty old enough to be involved in this.”</p><p>“I am an adult,” Elrond said mildly. “And I can speak for myself.”</p><p>“Pfft,” Galadriel said. “You do sound like him. Have some cookies, Elrond.”</p><p>Elrond wasn’t sure if this was acceptance or not, but he had some cookies.</p><p>“How were those pancakes, Finno?”</p><p>“Amazing.”</p><p>“Better be.”</p><p>“Charming as always, my lovely cousin.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be charming in my place. Father is too distraught to organize mother’s funeral, Finrod just got out of rehab, Celebrían has been at the station for almost thirty six hours now, and I cannot get that damn letter off of my mind.”</p><p>Fingon pulled a face. “I’m sorry. If there’s any way I can help…”</p><p>“I’ll let you know, yes.”</p><p>Elrond felt suddenly as if he was intruding. “I should probably be getting home. Could I get that check?”</p><p>Fingon shook his head. “I’ll pay, Elrond. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Elrond started to protest, but Galadriel waved a hand. “No, it is the best we can do for having to pull you into this clutter.”</p><p>Elrond said, “Well – ” but Galadriel levelled a serious look at him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said instead, and then made his escape.</p><p>“He is rather sweet,” Galadriel said to Fingon, but Elrond didn’t hear the response as he slipped out the door.  </p><p>The walk home was long and dark, but it gave him time to think. Specifically, to think about what he needed to tell Elros. (Should he be worried about Tyelkormo?) But when he reached his street, he saw a car parked in front of his place. He sped up, and yanked one of his knives out. He glanced through the windows at the dark rooms, then checked the door. It was locked, but that didn’t mean anything.</p><p>If someone tried to kill him tonight, he would be very bitter.</p><p>He unlocked the door and walked in slowly, trying to scan the shadows of the room for an assailant. His night vision had been ruined by the streetlamps outside, but he didn’t see Erestor. If someone had killed his cat, he would be <em>pissed</em>.</p><p>“Hey, sweetheart.”</p><p>Elrond lunged towards the voice, slamming the shadow into the wall. He held his knife to a throat, and with the other hand, scrabbled for the light switch.</p><p>They both blinked in the sudden flood of light.</p><p>“Note to self,” Celegorm ‘Tyelkormo’ Fëanorian said breathlessly, and Elrond could feel a gun being held to his own side. “Both twins are sharp.”</p><p>“You fool,” Elrond said, but stepped back. “What the fuck did you do to my cat?”</p><p>“Erestor? He’s over there. I even fed him for you, Elros told me to. And in exchange you tried to <em>stab </em>me! Gotta kiss it better, love.”</p><p>Elrond ignored him, putting his coat away. Tyelkormo, despite the teasing, looked a little tired, a little frazzled, for lack of a better word. His blond hair was pulled back in a greasy ponytail, and he wore all black, and the scar that arched across his neck was no kinder in the shadows than it was in the light. “Why are you here, Celegorm?” Elrond asked.</p><p>“Tyelkormo is better, baby boy. Lot of people want to kill Celegorm.”</p><p>Elrond narrowed his eyes at him. “After hearing about your family history today, I am not surprised.”</p><p>Tyelkormo huffed. “Yeah. Actually, that’s why I’m here.”</p><p>Elrond dropped the taser on the counter with a clatter. “Seriously.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Where’s Elros?”</p><p>“Aw, do you not want me?”</p><p>“No, I do not.”</p><p>“I’m hurt.”</p><p>Elrond picked up Erestor, who gave a tired meow. “Where’s my brother?”</p><p>Tyelkormo slumped against the counter and reached out to pet the cat. “He had to finish up. There was an accident. He’ll be here soon.”</p><p>“Why exactly did you two decide to invade my house? Especially since I know that you are a wanted man.”</p><p>Tyelkormo gave him a smile, guileless and dark. “Guilty as charged.”</p><p>“You may stay here, since I do not know where else you would go, but if anyone comes to kill you, I am not stopping them.”</p><p>“Aw, come on, I’ll kill your assassins if you kill mine!”</p><p>“You are a grown adult. Kill your own assassins.” Elrond directed another look at him, then went to get himself some water. He flipped off the lights again, leaving only one on in the kitchen.</p><p>Tyelkormo joined him at the sink, taking Erestor from him with surprising grace. “You like the dark, do you?”</p><p>“Artificial light bothers me,” Elrond said shortly.</p><p>“There’s lots we can get up to in the dark.” Tyelkormo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>Elrond closed his eyes and prayed that Elros would get here soon. “Why are you actually here, Tyelko?”</p><p>“Oh, are we on nickname basis now? Ellie, I’m touched.”</p><p>“<em>Tyelkormo.</em>”</p><p>“Fine, fine. I’m here because even though nobody should know where I am, I got a fucking letter just like yours. And because I heard that my aunt and cousin died, and that dear old Fingon is finally knocking on the right doors, and your brother is, rightfully, rather concerned about you. Also, you don’t have nearly enough guns in this building.”</p><p>Elrond levelled a glare at him. “I don’t like guns.”</p><p>“<em>Honey</em>. Just because you don’t like guns, doesn’t mean nobody else likes guns. Haven’t you heard? You don’t bring a <em>knife</em> to a <em>gun</em> fight.”</p><p>“I do not need any more guns than I have.”</p><p>Tyelkormo grinned, wide enough to look just a little deranged. “Lucky for you, I brought plenty!”</p><p>“You <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Presents,” Tyelkormo said gleefully, gesturing to a duffel bag. “Except they’re all for me.”</p><p>“Didn’t you fly here?”</p><p>“Well yeah. I have connections, baby boy.”</p><p>“Please, stop calling me that.”</p><p>“Nope.” He popped the end of the word.</p><p>Elrond debated the logistics of throwing Tyelkormo out on the street.</p><p>The blond sobered up a bit. “Actually though, if my illustrious cousin is fancying himself to find Nelyo and Káno, then I want to see what we can do about another missing relative of ours.”</p><p>“Another one?” Elrond asked.</p><p>“Most of them are missing,” Tyelkormo said breezily. “And half of them are better off dead. But not this one. He’s my brother’s son, and I promised I’d look out for him. Except, see, there was this redhead with these really perky tits, and…”</p><p>“You are absolutely horrible,” Elrond told him. “If you want us to help you, then you have to help us.”</p><p>“Does helping involve alcohol?” Tyelkormo asked hopefully.</p><p>Elrond grimaced. “No.”</p><p>“Rats.”</p><p>“Come over to the table,” Elrond said. “You’re going to help me write everything down.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Four lost sons and a funeral.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was gonna be longer but i decided to leave some stuff for the next chapter so the endings a lil stilted BUT hope its enjoyed anyway!! &lt;3 (not editing lmao sorry yall)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elrond was rather glad that Elros wasn’t there the next morning.</p><p>For one, Tyelkormo nearly set the kitchen on fire. For two, the cliché board that Tyelko had convinced him to put up on the wall, with everything scribbled down and question marks and connecting arrows, did look a bit sketchy.</p><p>Mostly, though, it was the fact that the toaster is smoking.</p><p>The first thing Elrond did after stumbling out of bed was to erase the <em>34 </em>he’d written on the board, and write <em>33. </em>At least it was Saturday.</p><p>“You’re obsessed,” Tyelko said.</p><p>“My toaster is smoking,” Elrond replied. “Shut your greasy face.”</p><p>Tyelko made an extraordinarily offended noise. “My face is not greasy.”</p><p>“Fix the toaster,” Elrond told him absently, staring at the board again. Tyelko had talked about Curufin’s son, but where was Curufin? “And kindly stop acting like a teenager.”</p><p>Tyelko scowled. “You fix the toaster.”</p><p>“I have never used the toaster.”</p><p>“You – what the fuck? You’re worse than Elros.”</p><p>“Actually,” Elrond said, “I’m better than Elros, and he can’t skin a deer for love or money. Also, he faked his own death.”</p><p>"Damn, sweetheart, not pulling any punches. But Elros kills <em>people</em>.” Tyelko paused. “You haven’t skinned any people, have you?”</p><p>Elrond snorted. “I haven’t skinned any people. Might be interesting to try, but I’m supposed to stay on the right side of the law.”</p><p>Tyelko blinked, but Elrond kept staring at the board, as if hoping it would give up it’s secrets. “You,” Tyelko started, and then blinked again. “You’re <em>just </em>like Elros.”</p><p>“We are twins,” Elrond pointed out. “Say, where’d Curufin go?”</p><p>“Say,” Tyelko said in return. “You stopped sounding like Spock.”</p><p>“And your Australian accent is gone,” Elrond replied automatically, then paused. “What did you just say?”</p><p>Tyelko looked delighted now. “You stopped sounding so ridiculously formal.”</p><p>“Damn,” Elrond said. <em>Fucking </em>Tyelkormo. “You’re avoiding telling me where Curufin is.”</p><p>The delighted look was gone for a flash, and something cold was in it's place. But then Tyelko put that familiar smirk back on. “He’s dead,” he said breezily, and made a cutting motion across his throat. “Little psycho. Hung himself. What a shame.” He busied himself with the toaster.</p><p>Elrond frowned at his back. The boy Tyelko had been talking about needing to find – that had to be either Curufin or Caranthir’s kid. Caranthir was dead. Curufin was too, apparently. But Caranthir had died at a known time, and Curufin had merely disappeared after all the mess, presumably with Tyelko. So the kid was Curufin’s, and Tyelko made a promise to him. Meaning –</p><p>“I am sorry,” he said to Tyelko’s back. “That was insensitive.” He tried to imagine how he’d have felt if Elros had actually died. At least Elros wasn’t a psychopath. Although Elros did kill a lot of people, what with being an assassin. “Do you consider yourself a serial killer?”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Tyelko said. “Can we just have breakfast?”</p><p>They had breakfast, along with Erestor.</p><p>Elrond figured he should move away from the subject of Curufin – Tyelko, as much as he joked, had done some less than pleasant things, and Elrond didn’t want to be on his bad side. “So where do you think his son is? You said his name was Celebrimbor?”</p><p>“Ellie, honey, let’s talk about something other than my family. It’s only nine in the morning.”</p><p>Elrond drew a blank as to what else he should talk about. “Do you think people have tried skinning each other?”</p><p>“I can confirm that yes, they have,” Tyelko said, and then gave an aggravated sigh. “Fine, let’s talk about my family.”</p><p>“Technically it’s my family too,” Elrond pointed out.</p><p>Tyelko snorted. “Sure, not that we knew about you for an entire decade. Fucking Nelyo and Káno. Seriously, you went to Alaska? Not even out of the country? What if someone had found you?”</p><p>“Alaska was nice,” Elrond told him. “And we learned how to defend ourselves, it was fine.”</p><p>“There’s not a lot of people in Alaska. Who the hell were you learning how to defend yourselves from?”</p><p>“Maitimo and Makalaurë?”</p><p>“So…hold on, you mean that’s why you have absolutely no style? That’s why Elros has absolutely no style?”</p><p>Elrond frowned. “What.”</p><p>“Both of you handle knives like…like Boy Scouts with a penchant for bloody murder.”</p><p>At that, Elrond scowled. “Not all of us have military training.”</p><p>Tyelko scowled back. “Not military,” he replied.</p><p>Elrond remembered the discharge from sniper training, the most recent document he’d found on Celegorm after some significant digging, a couple days ago. “I know.”</p><p>Tyelko blinked, and then the scowl slid into the sharp, crazy smile that was probably supposed to be intimidating. “You’re an asshole.”</p><p>"Yes,” Elrond said, and then made a decision for both his and Tyelko’s sanity. “I’m going to run over to the police station. I want to look up a few things. Then I’ll be back.”</p><p>“You never stop, do you. We need to get you a life. Or a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, if that’s what you’d rather, you know I could <em>personally</em> help you out there.”</p><p>Elrond ignored him and stood up, putting his coat on. “Wash the dishes, please.”</p><p>There were a lot of people that he didn’t know where they were, or if they were actually alive, he reflected. He wondered if he ought to contact Fingon, and see about reaching out to all of them; actual conversations, not just records on a computer screen. The issue was, they didn’t have solid proof that Aegnor and Eärwen had been killed by M, only the document evidence from the letter. Perhaps, if they could provoke M into lashing out – Elrond cut himself off. That would only lead to another death.</p><p>But if they couldn’t completely be sure the letters would lead to people dying, then there wasn’t an easy way to convince the other Finwëans that they were in legitimate danger. And besides, he still wasn’t entirely sure what it was, exactly, that M was hoping to achieve. Was it the Silmarils? Was it just a glorified game of cat and mouse? (And still, still <em>where </em>were Maitimo and Makalaurë? How were they trapped in this?)</p><p>Elrond needed to know more about the Silmarils. He was pretty certain that he and Fingon were on the right track, thinking that was what M wanted, but Elrond still needed to know more about the whole situation. Which meant that to start, he would need to reach out to the other Fëanorians. But if no one other than the Fëanorians knew where the Silmarils were, why threaten <em>all </em>the Finwëans? Was this truly just a shrouded way to murder all of them? If so, why the time limit? What would happen when the time limit was up?</p><p>Elrond did not enjoy having more questions than answers. But Elrond couldn’t resist the mystery of it, the way that the time bomb ticked away in his head and made him work faster, and really – it was a good thing Elrond had never tried drugs. It was a good thing Elrond had never actually tried cutting somebody apart. It was a good thing that for this, he didn’t have to stay on the right side of the law.</p><p>(Twins would be twins – much too alike to admit even to themselves.)</p><p>He opened the door, mentally plotting out a text to Fingon, and made his way through to his desk. He sat down and logged into the computer, typing out the text as he waited.</p><p>
  <strong>Elrond Tar-Minyatur: I think that we should systematically work through having in-person conversations with all of your relatives that are still alive, beginning with the Fëanorians. If they are not alive, I would like to be certain of that fact. I apologize for the earliness of this. </strong>
</p><p>Once that was done, he started checking missing persons databases.</p><p>He began with Makalaurë. The results for Maglor Fëanorian were very, very vague, and had a lot of allusions to ‘criminal activity’ that Elrond figured was just trying to cover up the Silmaril mess. There wasn’t a lot in it that he didn’t already know, and it went the same with Maitimo’s. He wasn’t surprised, so the next thing he did was look up Celebrimbor.</p><p><em>Thank god nobody in this family had common names, </em>Elrond thought as he searched <em>Celebrimbor Telperinquar Fëanorian. </em></p><p>That yielded absolutely nothing. He sighed, not even surprised. He switched to looking up Curufin, figuring that if he was dead, they’d at least want to figure out where and when he died. That got him a short obituary – death by suicide. No note. Succeeded by mother and twin brothers. Hung himself in a warehouse.</p><p><em>Huh, </em>Elrond thought. Same way his father had died. Coincidence, or had Curufin meant the parallel? Well, it certainly made sense that Curufin had been the most to take after his father, other than looking exactly like him.</p><p>Elrond refocused. The warehouse had been in Germany. So he’d been out of the country, probably, which made sense, especially if he’d been with Tyelko. So Celebrimbor had been born out of the country, yet Tyelko seemed confident he’d made his way back to the US. He’d also seemed confident that Celebrimbor was very much like his father, and if Curufin was like Fëanor, then it stood to reason…so what had Fëanor done, other than build extremely dangerous bombs? Elrond frowned. That didn’t seem right. What had Curufin done?</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>“Are you aware it is Saturday, Elrond?”</p><p>Elrond clicked the homescreen and then spun around in the direction of his boss, Ereinion Gil-galad. He was a stern guy, dark-haired and prideful, but he had always been fair.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Elrond said.</p><p>Gil-galad always seemed very amused when he was in Elrond’s presence. He raised an eyebrow at Elrond. “I take it Fingon finally dragged you into the tragic shitshow that is his life?”</p><p>Elrond blinked and took a few seconds to reorient his brain. “How do you know Fingon?”</p><p>“He was my mentor of sorts, back when I worked a little with the FBI. What, is that so weird?”</p><p>Elrond finally said honestly, “Sir, with all due respect, my entire life is weird right now. Why did you ask?”</p><p>“Fingon came to me to find you. I don’t know why, nor do I think I want to, but I’m glad that he’s finally moving on.”</p><p>Elrond smiled pleasantly and nodded, and thought, <em>oh you don’t even know the half of it. </em>He was starting to realize that this wasn’t one of those things you ‘moved on’ from.</p><p>“He asked me about Mithrandir, too, but it’s been years since I saw him, not since the Peredhel incident, so I could only point him to you.”</p><p>Elrond frowned. “Mithrandir?”</p><p>“Olórin Mithrandir,” Gil-galad said, and there was amusement glittering in his eyes. “A recluse, and a very strange man, but a good one nonetheless.”</p><p>Elrond’s life could, apparently, get stranger. Olórin couldn’t be that common of a name, could it?</p><p>"Yes,” Elrond said politely. “I should probably be going now.” He closed the tabs and logged out of his computer.</p><p>“Be safe, Elrond,” Gil-galad said as he stood up, which was as odd as the rest of this conversation.</p><p>“Thanks,” Elrond responded, before getting out of there as quickly as he could.</p><p>Starting the walk home, he found that Fingon had responded to his text.</p><p>
  <strong>From Fingon: sure</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Fingon: sorry kid, was at a funeral</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: It went badly?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Fingon: bad is a relative concept</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Fingon: I’m in the neighborhood mind if I come over and we talk instead of arranging over text</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: As long as you do not expect good food or good company.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Fingon: LMAO don’t worry</strong>
</p><p>Elrond had not known of the connection between Gil-galad and Fingon. He just hoped that Fingon had figured out Elros on his own, because if Gil-galad knew about Elros, that could be possibly problematic.</p><p>The walk back was nice, with the brisk air of late fall and the falling leaves from the sparse trees that dotted the sidewalks. When Elrond got home, Tyelko was still eating. Unfortunately for Tyelko, Elrond was also still thinking.</p><p>“What’re we going to do if we find the person who’s doing this?” Elrond asked out loud, picking up Erestor.</p><p>Tyelko, around a mouthful of sandwich, said, “Kill them.”<br/>“That’s not the solution to everything.”</p><p>“It’s the solution to a lot of things.”</p><p>Elrond shook his head and wondered – would he kill them? Would he not? “When did you last see Celebrimbor?”</p><p>Tyelko thought about that. “Before I met your brother. I think Celebrimbor’s a few years younger than you two.”</p><p>Elrond nodded. “So what makes you think he’s in the US again?”</p><p>Tyelko shrugged. “Pretty sure. Don’t think he’d have stayed with Curvo, even before he died.”</p><p>Elrond raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Tyelko snorted. “Curvo…he was my little brother. I loved him, as one does, but he was a psychopath. Celebrimbor, Tyelpe we called him, he was just a little too much like Curvo, and Curvo was just like dad. Too much pride, too much smarts. They butted heads just as often as they agreed. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure Tyelpe was getting into hacking, same crazy illegal shit Curvo did. Might want to start there.”</p><p>“Well.” Elrond blinked, mildly surprised at the amount of information Tyelko had volunteered. “I don’t think you have room to criticize people for crazy illegal shit.”</p><p>“He hacked into the Pentagon,” Tyelko said flatly.</p><p>“That’s rather impressive. Which one did this?”</p><p>“Curvo, but he definitely taught Tyelpe some stuff. That kid was a menace. Honestly, other than them both being attractive, God probably threw her hands in the air and gave up the day Tyelpe was born. Hold on, why are you writing that down?”</p><p>“It’s probably a little important. So the only people left to talk to are the twins, out of your brothers. Obviously we need to find Celebrimbor, but I think finding a way to talk to the twins will be good too.”</p><p>Tyelko shook his head furiously. “We are <em>not </em>talking to them.”</p><p>“We aren’t doing anything. I can talk to them all on my own.”</p><p>“No, you’re not,” Tyelko said. “They’re in prison for a reason, Ellie. A damn good reason. <em>Leave them alone.</em>”</p><p>Elrond tilted his head at Tyelko. It didn’t seem quite in character for Tyelko to believe so strongly in his younger brothers’ imprisonment, not after what he’d said about Curufin and Celebrimbor. So – “What are you protecting them from?”</p><p>Tyelko scoffed. “Not protecting those little shits from anything.”</p><p>“I don’t believe you,” Elrond replied, because Tyelko was protecting someone. “What exactly are they in there for anyway?”</p><p>“Let’s focus on finding Tyelpe,” Tyelko said, cutting Elrond off as he started to ask another question.</p><p>It was good timing for Elros to walk in. When he saw them, he dropped his bag on the floor tiredly to announce his arrival and said, “I left you alone for like…twenty four hours, tops, Tyelko. C’mon, man.” After a minute, he turned to Elrond, and then he didn’t seem to know what to do.</p><p>Elrond blinked at his twin. They hadn’t seen each other in a while – at least a few years. He had the same facial build as Elrond, all sharp edges, and the same grey eyes as Elrond, the ones that people tended not to meet for very long. But his dark hair was longer than it used to be, and there was a new scar on his upper arm to match the faded burn tissue that covered his hands.</p><p>Elros was wearing Maitimo’s old watch again. Elrond absent-mindedly tapped the shattered face of its brother, on his wrist. Makalaurë’s.</p><p>“You got shot,” Elrond said quietly.</p><p>Elros glanced at his arm. “Yeah.”</p><p>Tyelko glanced between them. “Ohhh-kay then, I’m going to go make some sandwiches.”</p><p>“Sure,” Elros said. His eyes followed Tyelko, and landed on the board. “So what’s that then?”</p><p>No sense in hiding. “I’m pretty sure you know what that is.”</p><p>“I see. I was hoping maybe you weren’t that stupid.”</p><p>“Oh? And you’re not equally stupid? You’re here, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah – you’re <em>really </em>getting involved in this? Cause this is definitely the worst idea we’ve ever had.”</p><p>"Yeah, cause I’m the drama queen who faked his own death by setting a house on fire.”</p><p>“Yeah, actually, you are the drama queen. It was your idea to dig up the damn body and put it in there so everyone would actually think I was dead!”</p><p>In the kitchen, Tyelko dropped something, though neither brother paid attention.</p><p>“At least now no one knows I’m related to you anymore.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>typical</em>. So mature of you, little brother.”</p><p>“You just love playing the older sibling card, don’t you.”</p><p>“Maybe because I <em>am </em>older.”</p><p>There was a knock on the door, but neither of them really noticed. Tyelko made his way over to open it.</p><p>“You’re older by, what, seven and a half minutes?”</p><p>“Still older, and that means you’re <em>my</em> fucking responsibility! So what is this? It looks like a madman’s design!”</p><p>“I’m <em>not </em>your responsibility. Isn’t that why you left? So that you didn’t have to deal with me anymore?”</p><p>“You little bitch, you <em>know </em>that’s not why.” His face softened a little bit. “C’mon, El, I don’t want you involved in this world.”</p><p>“Maybe you shouldn’t have involved yourself then, <em>El</em>. I’m a grown adult, you know that? I can make my own decisions.”</p><p>It was at that point that they both heard Tyelko say cheerfully, “Afternoon, Finno. Better than TV, innit?”</p><p>Elrond and Elros, as one, turned towards the doorway, where Tyelko was snacking on popcorn and Fingon was standing like a deer in the headlights.</p><p>“Should I leave?” Fingon asked.</p><p>“No,” Elrond said forcefully, at the same time as Elros said, “Yes.”</p><p>Elrond glared at Elros, who glared back. Tyelko crunched popcorn, and Fingon slowly took his coat off.</p><p>Elros gritted his teeth. “You do make your own decisions. Neither of us can leave well enough alone.”</p><p>Elrond noticed the tension bleed out of his brother’s body. He raised an eyebrow. “Gonna say you’re sorry?”</p><p>“Oh, you <em>dick</em>.”</p><p>Elros lunged at Elrond, grabbing him in a surprise headlock. Elrond kneed him in the balls and then swept his feet out so that they both tumbled to the floor. “Thought you were an assasin,” Elrond gasped out.</p><p>In response, Elros shoved his head into the ground. “Want me to say sorry now?”</p><p>Elrond put a hand in his face, pushing it away. He flailed for a minute, then, with no other options, slugged Elros.</p><p>“You little – ” Elros put a knee to his throat. “I win.”</p><p>Elrond huffed.</p><p>“This is pretty hot,” Tyelko observed.</p><p>Elros rolled his eyes and moved back. After a few seconds, he reluctantly said, “I am sorry, El.”</p><p>Elrond sat up, smiled at his brother, and then jumped at him.</p><p>“Goddamnit,” Elros hissed as he got slammed backwards into the floor. “We are twenty three fucking years old.”</p><p>“Just keeping your reflexes sharp,” Elrond said casually, before letting his brother up.</p><p>Tyelko was crowing with laughter, and Fingon shook his head in amusement. “Brothers,” he said.</p><p>Elros wrapped Elrond in a hug.</p><p>When they let go and stood up, Tyelko said, “I recorded that. Absolutely fantastic blackmail.”</p><p>“You jackass,” Elros told him, but Elrond could see the slight fondness.</p><p>“That’s a very nice watch,” Fingon said quietly to Elros.</p><p>Elros glanced down at it, then up at Fingon warily. “So you’re the one who dragged him into this.”</p><p>Elrond kicked him, but Fingon laughed. “Has he told you who I am?”</p><p>Elros nodded, and looked at him. It was a bit odd, Elrond reflected. Now, without the mental barrier of the daunting unknown that had permeated his and Fingon’s first meeting, he could see that Fingon looked…almost eager. Excited, and hopeful that Elros would accept him. It was an odd look for the man, but Elrond supposed if his spouse had left him, he’d grasp at all the small things they left behind, too.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Elros finally said. “I’m not sure I need to remind you that it’d be best if no one knew we were here.”</p><p>“Of course,” Fingon responded. “That will be the least of our issues.”</p><p>“Alright,” Elros said. “Then I’m gonna have a sandwich.”</p><p>They migrated to the kitchen.</p><p>Fingon gave Elrond a sidelong look. “Were you going to inform me of my cousin’s visit?” He asked drily.</p><p>Elrond shrugged.</p><p>“A quick question,” Elros said after he picked up a sandwich. “For you, Finwëan.”</p><p>“Yes?” Fingon responded.</p><p>“What’d we get, if those people are our birth parents,” Elros asked. “The Peredhels? Since I am sure my brother has been too focused on the excitement to inquire.”</p><p>“Probably the property,” Fingon said. “Probably the money. But Elrond would have to prove who he was.”</p><p>Elrond hadn’t really thought about that; or he had, but he had put it to the side. “Huh,” he said aloud, then, “Well, that’s a problem for later.”</p><p>After a minute, Fingon said, “I believe the current caretaker is a man by the last name Mithrandir.”</p><p>Elrond stared at him. Olórin? No way. That crotchety old man could not be involved in <em>everything</em>. Could he?</p><p>Instead of continuing that train of thought, he asked Fingon, “The funeral went badly?”</p><p>Fingon sobered up quickly. “Oh,” he said, “it did. Of course, our uncle never liked the friends Aegnor had, but we thought he would not make a scene during the eulogy. We were wrong.”</p><p>Tyelko interrupted him. “What about Angaráto?”</p><p>Fingon blinked at him. After a long moment, he said, “You have been out of the loop a while, cousin. Angrod has been dead a good few years.”</p><p>“That’s unfortunate,” replied Tyelko, looking a bit perturbed. “I always did like that sorry bastard.”</p><p>Fingon gave him a tight half-smile. “Yeah. Well, I truly hope aunt’s soul rests in peace, and that she didn’t have to witness any of that horrible ceremony. Not to mention the reception, which was even worse. And then, we realize that there’s a woman there that we don’t know, and the poor girl has to introduce herself as Aegnor’s girlfriend, and uncle started harping away, all while she’s trying not to cry about him. Artanis and Findaráto decided to take her back to the diner and get some food in her, but I’m sure it was appropriately traumatizing.”</p><p>“So it was the usual disaster that happens anytime our family gathers in large groups,” Tyelko summarized.</p><p>“Plus cameras,” Fingon said with a heavy sigh. “They were banned from the reception, but of course they had to immortalize the face of Uncle Finarfin as he began yelling in the middle of the service. So that’ll come back to bite us in the ass at some point.”</p><p>Tyelko snorted. “Serves him right.”</p><p>Elros looked at Elrond. His face very clearly stated, <em>are we sure we want to be involved with this family</em>?</p><p>Elrond nodded. “So we need to find Curufin’s son.”</p><p>Fingon probably would have done a spit take if he wasn’t eating a sandwich. “Curufin has a <em>son</em>?”</p><p>“Well, Curufin’s dead,” Elrond elaborated. “But Tyelko lost the kid.”</p><p>“I didn’t lose him,” Tyelko muttered. “Just…misplaced.”</p><p>Fingon was looking at all three of them with a newfound sense of exhaustion.</p><p>“<em>So</em>,” Elros said, “where is he, Tyelko?”</p><p>Tyelko put his head down on the counter. “You guys sound just the same,” he said, his voice muffled. “I hate it.” Elros picked up a knife and jabbed him in the side. He jumped. “Fine, fine, Jesus, I don’t really know, but I’m pretty sure he’s involved with one of the hacking groups. Don’t know where he is, but I think it might be Durin?”</p><p>“You didn’t tell me that,” Elrond said, vaguely offended for reasons he didn’t know.</p><p>“I like your brother better,” Tyelko told him. “But don’t worry, Erestor is still my favorite.”</p><p>Elrond picked up Erestor. “Too bad. So Durin?”</p><p>“Tyelko and I can go deal with Celebrimbor if you want,” Elros said to Elrond. “You and Finwëan go start talking to people.”</p><p>Elrond smiled. He’d forgotten what it was like to have his twin around – the person that, after all these years, still knew him better than he knew himself. “Alright. Don’t kill anyone.”</p><p>“We make no promises,” Tyelko said.</p><p>Elrond remembered his thought from earlier. “Fingon, do you have any idea why M might be killing those that he is?”</p><p>Tyelko piped up with, “They’re killing the useless ones.”</p><p>“<em>Tyelkormo</em>,” Fingon and Elrond said at the same time.</p><p>Tyelko shrugged. “It’s true.”</p><p>Elros whacked the back of his head, but reluctantly admitted, “He’s not wrong. Which is odd. You’d think whoever this is would want to immobilize the ones who could actually do damage first.” He shifted his gaze to Elrond. “<em>Or</em>, the letters don’t actually have anything to do with the Finwëan deaths, and that was just a random attack.”</p><p>Elrond rolled his eyes. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we.”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Fingon said, sounding both eager and intensely tired. “We’ll see <em>tomorrow</em>.”</p><p>             </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You know,” Olórin Mithrandir said to the dark-haired man currently moving his boxes. “They’re coming out of the shadows. You raised them well.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the dark-haired man said staunchly. “And for the record, you could be moving these boxes yourself.”</p><p>“I am paying you,” Olórin reminded him, “since you are, technically, homeless.” He made a noise that he felt was appropriately curmudgeonly. “Young people these days.”</p><p>Maglor glared at him. “You horrible old man.”</p><p>“You horrible young person,” Olórin retorted.</p><p>It was a strange sight. The old, native man, with his long silver hair, sitting on his porch and smoking a pipe in the light of the setting sun. The too-thin, dark-haired man, lugging boxes towards a pickup truck with a surprising amount of force.</p><p>“What’s even in here?” Maglor asked, grunting at a particularly heavy one.</p><p>“Just some surprises for my former employers,” Olórin, previously Gandalf Greyhame of the CIA, smiled pleasantly. “A few things they didn’t know I had.”</p><p>Maglor huffed. After a minute, like a well-trained dog who still couldn’t ignore the bone waving in front of his face, he asked, “What did you mean?”</p><p>“Why, your former protégés,” Olórin said.</p><p>“Don’t call them that,” Maglor interrupted.</p><p>Olórin inclined his head. “Your former charges, then. They’re finally looking in the right direction.” He hummed and blew out a puff of smoke. “Too bad, then, that it’s coming at just the wrong time.”</p><p>This was the beauty, Olórin thought, of no longer being employed by a government agency. He didn’t need permission – just a nudge here, and a poke there, and perhaps, finally, Maglor and Maedhros Fëanorian might rejoin the game.</p><p>Perhaps even in time to help save lives.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im a nerd and made a <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/catherineklly/wip-people-like-us/">pinterest board</a> please help me</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elrond gets...basically nowhere. But that's ok! He has lots of feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is,, kinda not epic but i really wanted to get it posted and also i have the Worst headache so enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elrond woke up the next morning to a note from his brother that he and Tyelko were leaving to ‘hunt down’ Celebrimbor, and that Erestor had been fed.</p><p>Elrond refilled Erestor’s water dish. His and Fingon’s grand plan consisted mainly of meeting at Lothlórien for a late breakfast and moving forward from there. (In other words, Elros had said dryly, they had no plan.) Before Elrond left, he took a quick picture of the board. He tilted his head at it. Celebrimbor was going to be found, and he would find a way to talk to Amrod and Amras, so that was all the Fëanorians.</p><p>He blinked. Had he looked into Nerdanel? He grimaced, remembering that she’d divorced Fëanor. So there was a large possibility she hated him, and he wasn’t going to bet on her being fond of her sons, either. But would she even be willing to talk to him? Probably, if he made up some reason for being there. And it would be worth it, if there was a possibility she knew where Maglor an</p><p> He shook his head, and erased the board.</p><p>It was a stereotypical rainy autumn day, the kind that made staying inside cozy, and going outside miserable. Elrond dithered, and finally decided to take his bike, because it was just a bit too gross to walk. It was late enough in the season that it was cold instead of humid, but there were puddles all over the streets. By the time he reached Lothlórien, he was soaked through and shivering. He locked his bike and hurried in, glad to be out of the rain.</p><p>Inside, the heating was on, and the rain dripped down the windows, blurring the light outside. It was just as warm and bright as it had been last time, and a good counter to the city gloom. Galadriel gave him a nod from the counter, and directed him towards an open table by the window.</p><p>“You look like a drowned rat.”</p><p>Elrond blinked up at a girl around his age. She was short and curvy, pale-skinned, with hair like a work of art – long and wavy, bleached white, dyed pastel lavender and rose, turquoise and mint green. Tattoos covered her arms and hands, all butterflies and feathers and moths, dreamcatchers and stars, a snake curling around her bicep. A few more were revealed by her crop top, which was dark blue and said ‘<em>I Narcanned Your Honor Student’. </em>She offered Elrond a mug of steaming tea.</p><p>“Hi,” Elrond said, blinking again.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow. “You gonna drink that? You look really cold.”</p><p>"Oh,” Elrond said. “Yes, thank you, please.” He wrapped his hands around it, warmth radiating from the chipped ceramic.</p><p>She sat herself down across from him. “I’m Celebrían.”</p><p>Elrond took a sip of tea and then almost spit it back out. “That’s a bit hot,” he managed.</p><p>Celebrían looked wildly amused, and Elrond wished he was dead. “Yes.”</p><p>Elrond took a smaller, more controlled sip, and then put things together. “You’re Galadriel and Celeborn’s daughter. The paramedic.” He was, as soon as he realized this, completely unsurprised that this was the child they had produced.</p><p>Celebrían replied easily, “And you’re the weirdass kid Fingon found.”</p><p>Elrond wondered if he should be offended. “Yes,” he agreed. Briefly, he wished his life were normal, so he could actually text Elros. <em>I met a pretty girl</em>, it would say. <em>What do I do</em>? “Are you working?” He asked.</p><p>She had a nice laugh. “No. I was at the station until six this morning. Figured I’d interrogate you while you wait for Finno.”</p><p>“Ah,” Elrond said. He had a fairly solid idea of how emergency medical services worked. “Do most people become paramedics at your age?”</p><p>Celebrían laughed. “No, I did it, uh, pretty quickly. Got my EMT cert and started precepting as soon as I was 18, then did paramedic class.”</p><p>“Ah,” Elrond said. He wished that Elros was here. Actually no, he didn’t. Elros would be making fun of him.</p><p>Celebrían lightly kicked him under the table. “So what about you, Sherlock?”</p><p>“Ah,” Elrond said, because he didn’t know what she knew and what she didn’t. “I work with the police as a detective.”</p><p>Celebrían rolled her eyes. “What do you like to do for <em>fun</em>?”</p><p>Elrond said, “Well, detective work is very interesting. Usually, interesting. I mean, not when there are, say, children involved, but it can be interesting. Such as with murders.” He should probably stop. “Or, you know, serial killers. Figuring out why they do what they do. That does not happen very frequently, though.” He should definitely stop.</p><p>“Probably a good thing,” Celebrían said, laughing a little bit.</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond agreed. Then, because his curiosity was going to get him killed someday, he asked, “Did you get a letter?”</p><p>Celebrían stopped laughing, which was unfortunate. “Yeah,” she said. “I did. So did mom. Dad didn’t, but considering recent circumstances…” She trailed off.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Elrond said, because it seemed appropriate.</p><p>“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault you got adopted into the family.”</p><p>For the fact that Elrond had spent around eight years refusing to talk about his childhood, a hell of a lot of people were learning about it. “That is true, but – ”</p><p>“Let’s talk about something else, the funeral yesterday was enough of a disaster for at least a century,” Celebrían said, and gave a short laugh. “Where’d the two Fëanorians even take you, to hide from Finno for that long?”</p><p>“Alaska,” Elrond responded, taking the subject change in stride.</p><p>“Alaska,” Celebrían said, jumping on the topic. “I want to go to Alaska. I’m gonna drive out west, climb at all the National Parks, and then just keep driving north until I hit Alaska.”</p><p>Elrond figured this was her throwing him a line to fix this conversation. “You rock climb?”</p><p>Celebrían smiled. “Yeah, if you’ve ever been out on the Potomac, by Reston? There’s an area called Great Falls. I climb indoors too, sometimes, in Alexandria, but nothing beats toproping directly above the river.”</p><p>Elrond understood most of that. “Toproping?”</p><p>“You know, harness, rope attached at the top, someone’s belaying you, you climb up, they’ve got the other end of the rope, you know…”</p><p>“Celebrían!” Galadriel called from across the room.</p><p>Celebrían winced. “Duty calls.” She smiled at Elrond as she stood up. “It was nice to meet you.”</p><p>Elrond thought about asking her on a date.</p><p>What came out instead was, “Do you want to help me break into someone’s house?” He winced. “Not break in. Just, politely knock on their door. And if they’re not home, you know, politely snoop around.”</p><p>Celebrían turned around and squinted at him. But she was, after all, a Finwëan. “Whose house?”</p><p>“Nerdanel’s.”</p><p>Celebrían looking at him made him just the slightest bit nervous. Finally she said, “Sure.” And with another flash of a smile, she slipped away.</p><p>Elrond was left slightly stunned, and he remained that way until Fingon appeared.</p><p>“Morning,” Fingon said, sitting down. “Miserable out, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond replied absently. He had definitely forgotten about two important things – he did not have Celebrían’s number, and he did not have a car. Also there was the fact that breaking and entering was illegal. But would Nerdanel actually want to see them?</p><p>“Elrond,” Fingon was saying amusedly. “Do you want breakfast or not?”</p><p>Elrond refocused. “Yes, please.”</p><p>“I’m not ordering for you.”</p><p>Elrond glanced up at the waitress who had appeared. He did not have a menu. “Can I get two blueberry pancakes, please?”</p><p>After the waitress left, Fingon glanced at his watch. “I’m heading out of town for the rest of today and tomorrow, just to let you know.”</p><p>“Why?” Elrond asked curiously.</p><p>“Hunting down my asshole of a brother. He called me about something inane, but he sounded weird, and…” Fingon sighed. “Considering the extenuating circumstances, I think I’m allowed to be an overprotective older brother.”</p><p>“Ah. Good luck.” Elrond paused. “Have you ever spoken to Nerdanel?”</p><p>Before he even finished, Fingon was shaking his head. “I’ve talked with her a few times. She’s a little intense, and very sad, but I doubt she’d actually threaten anybody. I don’t know if she’ll even be willing to talk to you.”</p><p>Elrond made a noncommittal noise, and Fingon gave him a halfway-suspicious look, as if to say <em>I know you’re up to something, I just don’t know what it is. </em>Fingon had made the immediate assumption that Elrond suspected Nerdanel, which while an interesting take, didn’t seem right.</p><p>When he and Fingon went to leave, Celebrían grabbed Elrond. She pressed a slip of paper into his hand, and gave him a quick grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”</p><p>Elrond smiled back at her as she left, although internally he wasn’t entirely sure how ‘let’s go break into a house’ became ‘let’s go break into a house <em>tonight</em>’. Then he froze. Across the room, Galadriel, who today wore a floor-length, multi-layered, prismatic dress, was glaring at him.</p><p>Elrond left quickly.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Back home, he changed into dry clothes, and then put Celebrían’s number into his phone. Luckily he managed to communicate the fact that he did not actually have a car, at which point she asked for his address, said she’d pick him up, and told him that he would ‘know it when he saw it’. Elrond then flopped on his couch for a few hours with Erestor, with the slightly guilty feeling that maybe he should try leaving well enough alone like Elros wanted, just for a little while.</p><p>It did not work.</p><p>Instead, Elrond researched a bit more on Nerdanel Mahtan. She’d been a sculptor, once renowned, and then had a whirlwind romance with Fëanor Finwëan, the eldest son of the affluent Finwëan family. She and Fëanor had been in the public eye for a while, going to galas and charity events, many of the pictures of her in elegant maternity gowns as the seven Fëanorian sons were born. And then came the scandal. At that point the sons of Fëanor took the last name ‘Fëanorian’ as their father decreed which, Elrond personally thought, was incredibly dramatic. And then an article about Nerdanel and Fëanor’s divorce, which, were things normal, would have been very popular. As it had been, with the rivalry and the manhunt for Fëanor, with most of the articles focused on headlines like ‘wealthy son turned arsonist and murderer’, Nerdanel was barely mentioned. Instead only a single article just said that she had withdrawn all of her art from galleries and retreated to a private home in the rural part of Loudoun County.</p><p>Her address should not have been as easy to find as it was, and he acknowledged to himself that this was definitely the kind of behavior that most people would not condone. But Elrond had made his peace long ago with the fact that he was not a good person. At the very least he could reassure himself that it was probably genetics, because Elros was, in pretty much all respects, even worse.</p><p>(<em>“Go grab the candy,” </em><em>Makalaurë urged quietly. “Watch out for that security camera, see? It’s like hide and seek.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Elros grinned, and then he darted across the grimy floor to grab the candy bar. Elrond watched. It had not been long since the Night, and he still did not know where his parents were. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You ok, little one?” A hand gripped his shoulder, slightly uneven in the pressure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elrond looked up at short muddy hair, hat pulled low over his face. Maitimo. Elrond didn’t know where his parents were, but he knew Maitimo and Makalaur</em>
  <em>ë were taking care of them. “Yes,” Elrond said, because that was the right answer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo looked at him, and Elrond met his eyes. Elros never liked it when he did that. “Alright,” Maitimo said. “Makalaurë, let’s go.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They walked out of the gas station, and found some trees on the side of the road a mile up. Maitimo and Makalaurë split a granola bar, and Elros gleefully opened his coat to reveal three candy bars.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo looked sharply at Makalaurë. “Mag – ”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hush,” Makalaurë said, and the bite in his voice surprised Elrond, even as he took the proffered chocolate from his own brother. “They’re too thin, Nelyo.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"So you told them to steal?” Maitimo sounded tired.</em>
</p><p><em>"Oh, because we have so much money,” Makalaurë retorted, then glanced at the two of them. “Hush. We don’t have better options. Let them be.”</em>)</p><p>Elrond shook his head. He didn’t know yet if recent information had changed his view of the strange childhood he’d had, but he knew one thing. There had been a lot of majorly sketchy parts of it.</p><p>The car that pulled up outside of his house was not what he expected, but in retrospect, was exactly what he would have assumed. It was a bright blue Jeep with a myriad of stickers, and when Elrond hesitantly got in, Celebrían gave him a stern look. “Do not comment on the lurching.”</p><p>There was not, actually, that much lurching. “This is manual?” Elrond asked. Then, “Oh, we need to go across the river and then get on 267.”</p><p>"Yeah, it’s stick.” Celebrían handed him her phone, keeping her eyes on the road. “Plug it into Waze.”</p><p>Elrond did so.</p><p>Once they got across the river and onto the highway, Celebrían glanced over at him. “Spill,” she demanded.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Mom and dad won’t tell me what’s going on,” she said. “And then, you show up with Finno, who is looking actually cheerful for the first time in <em>years</em>. Please. I want to know what’s going on.”</p><p>Elrond was taught to keep his secrets close to himself. But he recognized the tone of Celebrían’s voice – the desperate urge to know what was happening, before the world fell apart around you. He started from the beginning, telling her about some of his more recent suspicions and thoughts, and also the large amount of questions.</p><p>He did not expand much on his connection to Maitimo and Makalaurë, mostly because his feelings about that were still…confused.</p><p>“What the fuck did you get yourself into?” Celebrían asked rhetorically when he was mostly done. “Also am I getting on route 50?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond replied. It had started raining harder, and the overcast sky was darkening. “We’re going to take it straight towards Middleburg.” He figured he should probably break the news to her. “I would rather not actually force our way into her house if she is there.”</p><p>Celebrían laughed, that bright sound. “Well, I figured we weren’t going to.”</p><p>Elrond blinked.</p><p>After a moment of silence, Celebrían glanced at him with raised eyebrows. “Were we?”</p><p>“Ah,” Elrond said, albeit slightly guiltily.</p><p>Celebrían looked at him, blue eyes amused, then focused back on the road in front of her. “You know, your perception of what is right and wrong is…not quite where it should be.”</p><p>Elrond reflected on that. “Yes, most likely.”</p><p>Celebrían snorted. “It’s alright, you’re hot so that sort of makes up for it.”</p><p>Elrond didn’t really know how to respond to that. This would have been another instance where texting Elros would be useful.</p><p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: Tell my brother he needs to get a phone.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: pfft</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: kids in fuckin CALIFORNIA</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: You’re the one who lost him.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: dick</strong>
</p><p>Celebrían, in the meantime, was laughing at him slightly. “You ok over there?”</p><p>“Yes.” Elrond tried not to sound flustered. “Ah, turn right here.”</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Celebrían said, and yanked the wheel.</p><p>Elrond held on tightly to the bar in front of him.</p><p>“Sorry,” Celebrían added, shifting as they rumbled down a dirt road. “Used to driving an ambulance. Turns a little differently than this.”</p><p>“I can imagine,” Elrond said, and thought with slight awe, <em>this girl is crazy.</em></p><p>It was almost fully dark now, and the rain was coming down fast. Celebrían drove slowly, both of them looking for the driveway. “What if she calls the police on us?”</p><p>“I’m not sure she will,” Elrond replied. “Your entire family has a tendency not to trust law enforcement in any form, and I don’t really expect her to be any different, not after all these years.”</p><p>Celebrían was quiet for a minute. “You know, that’s fair.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond said, then, “Here.”</p><p>Celebrían slowed down and shifted, turning onto a long, dark driveway. After thirty seconds, a huge house was revealed, situated among fields. The driveway was barely lit, and the house even less so. Celebrían pulled the Jeep up to park closest to what they hoped was the front door.</p><p>“Hell, it’s still raining. Wait, are those…statues?” Celebrían asked. She sounded both terrified and intrigued.</p><p>“She was a sculptor,” Elrond murmured, closing the door of the Jeep as gently as he could. The walk up to the entryway was surrounded by sculptures, all so lifelike that they seemed to be staring, wide-eyed and dead. In the pouring rain, in the dark, even Elrond would admit they were a little bit creepy.</p><p>Once on the doorstep, Elrond firmly knocked three times.</p><p>“Are you sure about this – ” Celebrían started to ask, but then the door was opening to reveal a woman, her red hair streaked with silver, her eyes tired and her face drawn. Elrond could see where Maitimo had her hair, and Makalaurë her eye shape, and Tyelko her freckles.</p><p>But she was also holding a shotgun, and it was pointed right at them.</p><p>Celebrían gripped Elrond’s arm, which would have been nice if she weren’t doing her level best to cut off blood flow to his hand.  </p><p>“Who the hell are you?” Nerdanel asked in a rough voice, like it hadn’t been used for a long while.</p><p>Well, it seemed she was prepared for someone trying to kill her, Elrond thought, mildly relieved. “Hello,” he said politely. “My name is Elrond Tar-Minyatur, and I’m just here to ask you a few questions, so it would be good if…” He trailed off, because she was already lowering the gun, and staring at him with something that looked a little like shock.</p><p>“Your name is Elrond,” she said, and cleared her throat. “Elrond. Let me see that watch.”</p><p>“Ma’am,” Celebrían interrupted, “first how about we put the safety on the gun, and maybe put it down.”</p><p>Nerdanel squinted at her. “And you are?”</p><p>“Celebrían Galadhon.”</p><p>Nerdanel blinked. “Finarfin’s. No, Galadriel’s girl. Yes?”</p><p>Celebrían blinked as well. “Uh, yes, actually.” She glanced at Elrond with a very obvious expression of <em>what the fuck</em>?</p><p>Elrond shrugged, then pulled Celebrían out of the way as Nerdanel stepped past them, out into the rain. “Cover your ears,” she said, and then took aim at the sky.</p><p>Elrond winced slightly as she pulled the trigger. “Ma’am,” he said, but she was already pumping it and taking another shot.</p><p>This time, the look Celebrían gave him was displeased.</p><p>Nerdanel lowered the gun and turned to them. “Gets people out of the yard.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Celebrían agreed. “May we come in?”</p><p>Nerdanel grabbed Elrond’s wrist tightly, and held up the watch. She ran a finger carefully over the face, then tapped the tiny initials engraved in the bottom. <em>M.F. </em>Her expression was pained. “Yes.”</p><p>Inside, Nerdanel sat them down in the kitchen. It was the only lit room in the entire empty house. She put some water on the stove to boil, and started wiping off the shotgun with a towel. “You look just like your grandmother, you know,” she said to Celebrían. “I heard about what happened.” She offered Celebrían a sad smile. “She was a good friend to me.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Celebrían said softly. “Thank you.”</p><p>Nerdanel turned back towards the stove, and started pouring mugs of hot water.</p><p>“You know me,” Elrond said.</p><p>Nerdanel turned back towards him, and her expression had a bit of sharpness, an underlying reminder of the fact that this woman was no better off than the rest of her family. “Very observant.”</p><p>Who would have told her, Maitimo or Makalaurë?</p><p>“Does he ever hurt himself thinking that hard?” Nerdanel asked Celebrían, who almost choked on her tea.</p><p>(<em>“Nelyo, why are we still doing this? Why can’t we let this go? They’re all gone, Nelyo. There’s no one left.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“No one left but us. We’re still here, Káno. We have to do it, for Moryo, for Pityo and Telvo. For father. We can’t just stop now. We’re so close. We get them back, and hide them, and we’re done.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh?” </em>
  <em>Makalaurë’s voice was raised, now. Elrond glanced at his brother, glad he was asleep. “And what about,” he lowered his voice, “what about them? They’re not little anymore, Nelyo. They’re not children, they’re no younger than the twins were. Do you really just want to leave them? Leave this life we’ve built?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elrond stared at the ceiling. He was glad Elros was asleep.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No,” Maitimo said. “No, of course not, but don’t you see? We have to do this.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’re not the heroes, Nelyo. We never were. Those two children are the only good things we’ve ever done.” There was bitterness in his voice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We kidnapped them. They’d be better off without us.”</em>
</p><p><em>“I can’t believe you. Don’t you see? We can’t ever get out, not really. We might as well take this good while we can get it.”</em>)</p><p>“It was Mak – Maglor,” Elrond said. Maitimo wouldn’t have come back to his mother, he would have been too proud. They’d been talking about the Silmarils, all those years ago, only a few weeks before they just…disappeared. His feelings towards his foster-fathers grew yet more complicated.</p><p>Nerdanel sat down at the table. “He came home,” she said. “He was the only one of my sons, to come home.”</p><p>“Where is he?” Elrond asked. He didn’t mean to sound so eager.</p><p>Nerdanel shrugged. “It has been a long time since I saw him.”</p><p>She didn’t mention Maitimo, which meant Elrond was right. Had Maitimo gone on to do whatever he wanted to do with the Silmarils? Elrond sighed. They needed to find Makalaurë, to ask him, to know what happened, in this in-between. There were too many strings tangled together, here. “Where was he going?”</p><p>Nerdanel replied, in a rather unhelpful way, “I see you loved him, though he didn’t think it.”</p><p>“Of course I loved him!” Elrond said defensively.</p><p>“He didn’t think so.” Nerdanel’s sad expression seemed permanent, but there was also a slight rebuke in her tone.</p><p>“Would you tell us where he was going?” Celebrían asked, bringing things back on topic. “We need to find him.”</p><p>Nerdanel looked at them. “No,” she said. “You won’t find him. My sons have wandered too far from home, and I don't think anything can bring them back.”</p><p>Elrond opened his mouth to ask another question, but Celebrían shot him a quelling look. “Thank you, ma’am,” Celebrían said.</p><p>“You’re a polite one,” Nerdanel said to her. “Very much like your grandmother. Tell her I send my love.”</p><p>Celebrían nodded.</p><p>Elrond asked, “Do you want to come back with us?”</p><p>“This is my home,” Nerdanel said. “And nobody will be making me leave.” She looked at Elrond. “At least I got one grandchild.”</p><p>Elrond wished he could tell her about Elros. Wished he could tell her about Celebrimbor. He would someday. So he nodded, not entirely sure how to respond.</p><p>“It’s late,” Celebrían said. “We should probably be going.”</p><p>Nerdanel waved a hand at them, no longer looking, so Celebrían exchanged a meaningful look with Elrond, and they showed themselves out. It felt wrong, all the darkened, empty rooms, some filled with yet more statues. It felt too final, to just leave Nerdanel there, in her house full of ghosts.</p><p>It wasn’t raining anymore, only a few clouds remaining in front of the moon. Celebrían started the Jeep, and Elrond’s mind was already whirling. Did Nerdanel mean anything symbolic, or had she simply been a pessimistic old woman? Was there anything in her house, any remnants of her sons that could give him clues? How was Elrond going to find Makalaurë, in the wide world?</p><p>This whole visit felt like it had accomplished nothing.</p><p>(<em>“Why did you save us?” Elrond asked. </em></p><p>
  <em>Maitimo looked at him. Maitimo always held his gaze. Elros didn’t. Makalaurë didn’t. “You were innocent.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elrond looked at his hands. He’d hurt somebody, now. “Were you ever innocent?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You ask hard questions, little one,” Maitimo said, which was his way of avoiding answering. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You were once,” Elrond said, because how couldn’t he be? Everyone started as a child, just like him, and grew to be an adult. The stages of life. One came before another. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I was once,” Maitimo said softly. “But no more.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Neither am I,” Elrond told him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo closed his eyes. “And that is one of the things for which I will never be forgiven.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elrond looked at him again. His parents weren’t coming back. It was just Maitimo and Makalaurë now. No adult had ever spoken to Elrond like this, like the truth wasn’t something that Elrond needed to be protected from. “You did not kill us.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo said, “I did not.” But Elrond could hear the question in his voice, because Elrond was observant, and his parents hadn’t liked that, but Maitimo and Makalaurë did, and it said: should I have?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Elrond thought about the cold winter, and the cough rattling from Elros’ lungs, and Maitimo and Makalaurë piling their own blankets on the twins. Walking on the sides of highways to catch rides from truckers, and teaching Elros to steal from gas stations, and how Elrond had just had to stab someone who was going to stab him. He thought, maybe you should have. He said, “I am glad you did not.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo swallowed. “I hope that someday you can forgive us, little one.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elrond was eight now, but he was still bad at forgiveness. Where were his parents, before that night? Why did they never come back? </em>
</p><p><em>Elrond didn’t answer Maitimo. He heard Elros cry out as Makalaurë cleaned his skinned knees. “It smells like it will rain tonight,” Elrond told Maitimo.</em>)</p><p>Elrond still wasn’t good at forgiveness, and it had taken Elros years to get over their foster-fathers leaving in the middle of the night. Now all Elrond wanted was to find them. But when he did, could he forgive them? He’d loved them, yes, but they’d killed his parents. They’d spur-of-the-moment taken him and Elros, and made quite a few questionable decisions besides. And…they’d just <em>left</em>.</p><p>And he still loved them.</p><p>“Were they good parents?” Celebrían asked, breaking the silence.</p><p>Elrond remembered the beginning, when they were barely eight. When Elrond had been forced to stab the drunk man coming at him, and after wiping the blood off his hands, Maitimo had told him only to aim for the armpits next time. How they’d gotten to Alaska, riding trains and hitchhiking, always cold and certainly not legally.</p><p>“Not really,” Elrond said honestly. “I think they were trying their best, though.”</p><p>“My parents weren’t very good at being parents, at the beginning,” Celebrían said. “It makes sense now, why. My grandmother was lovely but distant, but my grandfather was, well, is, kind of an asshole. I don’t think he was a good father to my mother, and I don’t think she really knew how to be a mother to me. Probably why I don’t have any siblings. And the rest of the family was never around really, and,” she gave him a slightly embarrassed look, “have you heard much about my uncle Finrod?”</p><p>“No,” Elrond said. It was nice to listen to her talk. Nice to hear about her family, even if they were as much of a disaster as his own.</p><p>“He drank a lot. Mother didn’t like talking about it, but I think he was too involved in all the rivalry stuff. He was my perfect, golden, uncle for the first part of my life, and then one day he up and tried to kill himself. He checked himself into rehab, a while ago. Just got out. He had a wife, I think, but she’s not around anymore.” She sighed. “This whole family is a shitshow. My mother asks why I spend days at the station, but sometimes the fire guys over there are a better family than my own. Seeing Nerdanel, all sad and alone. It’s just…why is it all so broken? Why is it a mess? <em>Why</em> is our family like this?”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Elrond said. He was kind of glad he hadn’t labelled this as any sort of date.</p><p>“I invited myself, it’s not your fault,” Celebrían told him. “But you’re giving me a hug when we get back. You don’t have a choice.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The fortunate thing about Tyelko was that he understood not wanting to talk, sometimes. The unfortunate thing about Tyelko was that, the rest of the time, he was an asshole.</p><p>“Nice drawl,” Tyelko commented when they got out of the grocery store. “You gonna kiss your mother with that mouth? No, wait, forget I said that, wrong gender. You gonna kiss your <em>brother </em>with that mouth?”</p><p>Elros said, “You know, I regret having that conversation with you.” Only alcohol would have made him think that confessing his early twenties sexuality crisis to <em>Tyelko </em>was a good idea.</p><p>Tyelko elbowed him. “C’mon,” he dropped into the southern drawl that Elros had used on the nice lady in the gas station, “you love me, sweetheart. ‘S alright, still can’t really tell if your brother’s gay or not, either.”</p><p>“I don’t even think he knows. Also, inbreeding isn’t pretty, drop the accent.”</p><p>Tyelko snorted. “Yeah, I’d probably shoot those bastards.”</p><p>Tyelko had talked more about his brothers in the past few days than he had the past few years, not since Elros had found him. “What was it like?” Elros asked. “Growing up with so many brothers.”</p><p>They got in their rental car. Tyelko seemed to be contemplating whether or not he actually wanted to talk about this. “Like you and Elrond beating the shit out of each other, times seven.”</p><p>Elros snorted. That was a cop-out answer.</p><p>“Your brother needs a car,” Tyelko added.</p><p>“He won’t.” Elros’ brother was a stubborn little shit like that, sometimes.</p><p>“Is this going to be like the gun thing?”</p><p>“No, he’s just a stubborn little shit.”</p><p>“So are you.”</p><p>“Like calls to like.”</p><p>Tyelko snorted, and started looking something up on his phone. “Damn,” he said. “Whatever happened to phonebooks? That would make this so much easier.”</p><p>Elros scoffed at him, and pulled onto the highway. “You’re not that old, seriously.”</p><p>“Son,” Tyelko said.</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” Elros told him. “You still type with your ring finger.”</p><p>It was sunset. It was California. It was oddly warm, which Elros didn’t really like. He was used to colder climates. Tyelko’s ponytail was shining gold in the light of the setting sun, as he swiped through various things on his phone.</p><p>Elros glanced over. “Get your feet off the dash,” he said.</p><p>Tyelko made a face at him, startlingly immature as always for how much older he was.</p><p>“You’re gonna die, someday,” Elros told him.</p><p>“We all are,” Tyelko said absently. “Oh, Atarinkë.”</p><p>“Pfft,” Elros said. “God damn traffic,” he added, because really – god damn traffic.</p><p>“You ever been to California?”</p><p>“I don’t think so.”</p><p>Tyelko made a vague noise. He said, “I camped out in Joshua Tree, once.”</p><p>Elros had seen pictures of Joshua Tree. He replied, “Big skies. Nobody for miles. Yeah?”</p><p>“Thought I was so cool. Thought <em>it </em>was so cool.” Tyelko half-laughed. “Went to Palm Springs, and shot somebody the next day.”</p><p>Elros nodded.</p><p>Tyelko said, “It was like that.”</p><p>Elros looked over. A reminiscent Tyelko, a sad Tyelko – that wasn’t something he wanted to fuck with. Maybe talking about his family hadn’t been the best move.</p><p>(<em>“Fuck you,” Elros said. “You’re not allowed to die on me, either, not before you’ve told me the truth.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Tyelkormo was limp, barely responsive. There was too much blood. The blond man groaned, and shifted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elros didn’t have a weak stomach. But the lines Tyelko had carved into himself were nothing small.</em>
</p><p><em>“You’re not allowed to leave,” Elros said. “I’m not fucking letting you.”</em>)</p><p>“Like what,” Elros asked.</p><p>“Family,” Tyelko said. “Like city and desert at the same time. Surrounded by people and still entirely alone.”</p><p>They left it at that.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The unfortunate part of life was that Elrond actually had a job. And stolen children were. Well. Due to recent events coming to light, stolen children caused a complex reaction within Elrond. But they certainly weren’t good. He left work late the next day, with the relief that he could sleep in the following morning. (But also with a sense of doom, because he would be working the night shift for the rest of the week.)</p><p>As he walked out, calling goodbye to Gil-galad, a car started further down the street, and drove slowly up towards him. This was the point at which Elrond remembered that he did not have any weapons on him.</p><p>Then he realized it was a blue Jeep.</p><p>“Hey,” a sleepy-looking Celebrían said, rolling down the window. “Finno told me you got out of work at <em>five, </em>what the fuck?”</p><p>Elrond shrugged. “Tends to happen sometimes.”</p><p>Celebrían’s hair was in a bun. Her makeup was slightly smeared. It was pretty adorable, Elrond would admit. “Long day?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond said.</p><p>She unlocked the doors. “I’ve got something that might cheer you up.”</p><p>He got in and sat down, relaxing slightly in the heat of the car. “Do you?”</p><p>Celebrían held up a battered letter with a smile. “Strange mail from people we don’t know.”</p><p>Elrond gave a small laugh and took it from her as she started the car. He squinted at the return address.</p><p>The only thing he could make out was <em>Mithrandir. </em>Of course. Right in line with everything else that had been going on in his life lately.</p><p>As Celebrían started driving towards his house, he slipped a finger under the envelope and opened it.</p><p>“What’s it say?” Celebrían asked curiously.</p><p>“It’s…” Elrond blinked as he read it. “He wants to meet with me, this weekend. To discuss my family inheritance.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hopefully now that ive got this story outlined it will? go somewhere? but hey meet celebrian i love her :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meet some new friends! And some dead bodies, but the two tend to go hand-in-hand, don't they?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lil bit of gore in this chapter, idrk what i think of it but we now finally have the whole Crew so yay!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elrond woke the next morning to his phone nearly overloaded with notifications.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: we found the little rat bastard HE WAS WORKING AT IN N OUT</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: and yk taking down some rich ass company firewalls too I raised him well</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: kids these days amirite</strong>
</p>
<p>Elrond rubbed his eyes and sighed.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Ereinion Gil-galad: You up for dinner tonight?</strong>
</p>
<p>And then, the most recent ones, which appeared to be why he had woken up.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From </strong>
  <strong>Celebrían: hey </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Celebrían: elrond</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Celebrían: wake up</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Celebrían: bitch im gonna break down ur door</strong>
</p>
<p>Elrond figured this one was probably the most urgent, so he called her, climbing out of bed to feed Erestor.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” he said when she picked up.</p>
<p>“Finally,” Celebrían said, slightly aggressively. “Get dressed, I’m picking you up in,” there was a pause, and a muffled swear as someone honked their horn, “ten minutes.”</p>
<p>“What,” Elrond started to ask, but she’d already ended the call. “Why is everyone like this? Erestor, it’s raining.”</p>
<p>Erestor meowed indignantly.</p>
<p>Nine minutes later, Elrond threw his long coat over a reasonably nice shirt and khakis. He patted the pockets of the coat and found that he hadn’t taken the knives out of it from the last time he wore it, and that was when the doorbell rang.</p>
<p>“Celebrían,” Elrond said, jogging down the sidewalk to catch up with her. “What is going on?”</p>
<p>“My cousin called me.” She started the Jeep, and Elrond had the time to notice that she somehow <em>didn’t </em>look like she’d just rolled out of bed, with capris jeans and a reflective jacket that was blindingly yellow, and her hair braided back like her mother’s in two long ropes. “Well, she’s not really my cousin, she’s Finno’s brother’s daughter, which is…I’m not sure how we’re related. But she called me like half an hour ago, and she was sobbing, and she just said that we needed to get over there. So I called Finno, and told mother, and now we’re here.”</p>
<p>All Elrond could think to ask was, “Where are we going?”</p>
<p>“Loudoun,” Celebrían said. “Finno’s brother, Turgon, he’s got a farm out there, they breed horses, it’s fancy and expensive as shit, but anyway that’s where Idril, the cousin, she hasn’t been there in a while but she said she went home. And you’re not exactly related, but you sort of are, and anyway mother agreed that I should come get you.” She looked at Elrond guiltily. “Rambling, sorry. Had coffee, and it always ramps my anxiety up a lot.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care,” Elrond said, glancing out the window as they drove past the Kennedy Center and across the Potomac. “I enjoy listening.”</p>
<p>Celebrían offered him a quick smile, then launched into a discussion about her recent climbing project, which eventually led to a mostly one-sided conversation about the weirdest drunk people she’d ever encountered while working. Elrond nodded and asked questions at the right times, carefully listening to what almost sounded like a friendly ramble, if not for the fact that there was an underlying current of anxious terror.</p>
<p>An hour later they were in true northern Virginia. In some ways, Elrond preferred it to the areas closer to DC, which were just data centers and suburban neighborhoods. This area was rolling fields and cloudy skies and wet autumn leaves plastered to the road, wineries and cows and enormous old houses everywhere. The Blue Ridge Mountains were ever-present in the distance, shrouded in mist.</p>
<p>Celebrían pulled onto a dirt road that led to an incredibly fancy gate. “Gondolin,” Elrond read from the elaborate sign, then watched as Celebrían punched in an entrance code. “Are you ok?”</p>
<p>Celebrían gripped the wheel tightly as the gate slid open. “Idril doesn’t really cry very frequently,” she said.</p>
<p>Elrond was not entirely sure how this visit was going to go. “It’ll be alright.”</p>
<p>Celebrían didn’t really respond. “Trauma bag’s in the back,” she said instead. “Just…I don’t know, just in case.”</p>
<p>Elrond turned around, and sure enough, there was a red and neon bag, with reflective strips much like the ones on her jacket. To her, he offered, “Your hair looks very nice today.”</p>
<p>This, at least, made Celebrían smile a little. “Thank you, Elrond.” They wound down the gravel lane, through fields with white fences and horses grazing, and Celebrían drummed her hands on the wheel. “Finno said you have a brother.”</p>
<p>Elrond sighed. “Did he now.”</p>
<p>Celebrían glanced over and snorted slightly at his face. “Yeah. A twin?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I have a twin brother named Elros. He is,” Elrond frowned, “a secret, sort of. We do not really talk about him. You might meet him soon, though.”</p>
<p>“Lovely,” Celebrían drawled. “You truly are a mystery, Mr. Bond.”</p>
<p>Elrond was still trying to figure out whether or not this was a compliment when they pulled up to the end of the driveway. There was a tree in the middle of a circular driveway, the house and the stable (equally sized and with matching color schemes) separated by only one field.</p>
<p>Celebrían and Elrond got out, and Elrond awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She wasn’t tall. “It’ll be ok,” he said.</p>
<p>Celebrían rested her head against his shoulder for a few seconds. “I hope so.” Then she strode towards the front door, and Elrond hurried to follow her.</p>
<p>A girl met them at the doorway. She looked around Celebrían’s age, so probably not much younger than Elrond. She was beautiful – brown eyes, burnished bronze skin, tight golden curls in an Afro. She was slim, with high cheekbones and puffy eyes. She met Celebrían at the doorway, standing ramrod straight, a sad statue in a big house, and all as faded as the cold grey day.</p>
<p>“Idril,” Celebrían said.</p>
<p>“Who’s he,” Idril said, and it was flat and dead.</p>
<p>“Elrond, distant relation,” Celebrían told her. “May we come in?”</p>
<p>“You puke easily?” Idril asked Elrond. Her eyes were equally flat and dead.</p>
<p>Elrond blinked. “Ah, no.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Idril turned and walked into the house. She was barefoot, Elrond noticed.</p>
<p>“Idril?” Celebrían asked, but followed her anyway.</p>
<p>The house was silent. Idril was walking like she was asleep. Elrond was realizing very quickly that telling Celebrían it would be alright may have been jumping the gun.</p>
<p>“I called my uncle,” Idril said, her voice echoing. “His husband’s a cop. Uncle Fin said he’d be here soon. Said in the meantime I shouldn’t touch anything.”</p>
<p>“Did you – ” Elrond wasn’t not entirely sure what question he was going to ask, because it disappeared as soon as they entered the kitchen.</p>
<p>He’d seen his fair share of dead bodies, but these were pretty bad. A dark-haired, dark-skinned man, with proud features that were probably similar to Fingon’s, once. He’d been stabbed multiple times with something dull, and his fingers were gone.</p>
<p>Elrond cringed; didn’t people learn anymore how to give a good, clean kill?</p>
<p>A blonde woman, petite and small. She was laid out on the floor next to him, the carpet stained darker around her head from blood and possibly water. They’d drowned her, maybe? He realized that the arms laid across her chest were not connected to her body, which was definitely contributing to the amount of dried blood. Was that before or after drowning? Where’d they even drown her, the goddamn sink?</p>
<p>Celebrían’s expression tightened, but other than that her features didn’t change, which was possibly the point Elrond realized he liked this girl very much. Then he yanked his mind back to more relevant topics.</p>
<p>“I,” Idril said, then cleared her throat. “I got a letter. Same as the other one. It was in the mailbox this morning. I was at a friend’s house. It’s over there.”</p>
<p>Celebrían put her arms around Idril, who wasn’t looking at the bodies. Elrond walked over to the table. The envelope bulged, and was rust brown. It looked like the man’s missing fingers were in there. The letter was sitting on the table, but it was only half. <em>Infestations must be put out. Your </em>– and then it stopped. The same style as the last one, just with a torn end, and bloody fingerprints.</p>
<p>Elrond left that one alone, but stepped carefully closer to the bodies. He crouched down next to the man. Turgon? There, a letter, sticking out like it was meant to be found. Elrond carefully pulled it out from under the palm. It was stiff, caked with dark liquid-turned-solid, and as he touched it, the crust cracked towards the bottom.</p>
<p><em>Secrets, </em>still capitalized even though it was most likely part of the previous sentence. <em>In exchange for your lives. Thirty days. Tick tock. </em>And an M again.</p>
<p>“Elrond,” Celebrían said. “Let’s go outside.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ok,” Elrond said quietly. He stood up, dusting off and pocketing the other half of the note, and reluctantly followed the two girls back through the halls.</p>
<p>They stepped out on the porch. The rain had started again, and the sky was the color of slate, and the leaves of the tree in the middle of the circle were falling, red like blood.</p>
<p>Idril started crying again.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>An hour later, a buff, blond-haired guy was hugging Idril and talking to her, and his husband, an equally buff dark-haired Asian man, was directing a team of police officers through the house. Elrond had politely requested that they keep him informed on what they found, and the Asian man (Ecthelion, and the blond was Glorfindel, Idril’s ‘Uncle Fin’) had somberly agreed.</p>
<p>So now Elrond was seated on the steps, feeling supremely useless, as Idril clung to Celebrían. He wanted to be helping, but he couldn’t, so he was mindlessly researching the location that had been in the letter Mithrandir had sent him. It was on the coast, in southern Virginia, presumably near enough to where the Peredhel mansion had been. (How had he not actually found the address for that?)</p>
<p>A notification popped up.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Fingon: almost here</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Fingon: how bad is it</strong>
</p>
<p>Elrond hesitated.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: I do not believe this should be done over text.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Fingon: I’ll take that as my answer</strong>
</p>
<p>Elrond winced.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: were headed back to yours soon probably</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: There has been another murder. </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: Murders.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: o shit who</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: Turgon and his wife</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: Elenwë?</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: rip</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Tyelko: he was kind of a dick ngl</strong>
</p>
<p>Elrond made a noise of combined exasperation and annoyance. At least, no matter how much Elrond sometimes screwed up social interactions, Tyelko was objectively worse.</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Elrond Tar-Minyatur: Tell Elros this means I am correct.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>From Fingon: pulling up to the gate</strong>
</p>
<p>Elrond turned to the two girls. He didn’t really know what to say, so he caught Celebrían’s eyes. “Be back soon.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Celebrían said quietly, shivering. Her neon jacket was around Idril’s shoulders. Elrond took his jacket off and then had a moment of hesitation. Was he just supposed to drape it around her shoulders?</p>
<p>Celebrían noticed, and smiled at him, so he handed it to her and then walked away quickly.</p>
<p>Barely past the circle, only a little up the lane, Elrond ran into a black motorcycle, upon which there were two riders. The passenger yanked his helmet off as the driver brought it to a stop. It was Fingon, surprisingly casual in jeans under his coat. The rider took his own helmet off, revealing dark skin, buzzed hair, and diamonds glittering in his ears. His features were eerily reminiscent of the body that was laying in the farmhouse, but he was built wiry and muscular like Fingon.</p>
<p>“Hello,” Elrond said, trying not to feel like a harbinger of doom.</p>
<p>“This is the kid?” The driver asked.</p>
<p>“Elrond Tar-Minyatur,” Elrond said, and respectfully held his hand out.</p>
<p>The driver took it. “Argon Finwëan.”</p>
<p>Fingon must have seen something in Elrond’s face, because his own grew tight and sad. “Was it bad?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Elrond said, not seeing any reason to hide it from them.</p>
<p>Fingon, rather than responding, slumped against Argon, who blinked, his eyes shining just slightly. “We need to bring Írissë home,” Argon said quietly to his brother, and they both looked older than they should.</p>
<p>“More people are going to die,” Fingon said, his voice slightly muffled. “I hate this. No, you’re right, we do need to find her.”</p>
<p>Elrond almost wanted to ask how they’d lost another whole person, but he figured he should keep his mouth shut. “There was a letter,” he said instead, leaving out the part about the fingers. “I found half of it on…around Turgon.” He pulled it out of his pocket.</p>
<p>“Elrond.” Fingon sounded heavily disappointed. “That’s police evidence.”</p>
<p>“I am the police,” Elrond said. “And I did not think that you would want to have them involved in the whole. Blackmail.” He showed them the countdown.</p>
<p>“Fuck this family,” Argon said.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>       </p>
<p>The rest of the day ended up being busy for Elrond. Argon and Fingon had stayed to deal with the bodies, and Celebrían brought Idril home with her and Elrond. She’d proceeded to take the both of them to Lothlórien for a hot drink, and then dropped Elrond back at his house with a brief but firm hug. Elrond, back home, had fed Erestor, received multiple passive-aggressive texts from Elros via Tyelko, and tried to figure out which Finwëans might be the next target.</p>
<p>It was, generally, unsuccessful. Possibly it was unsuccessful because trying to find information on the Finwëan family was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, should the needle be melting because it was on fire, and the haystack was on fire, and everything was on fire. It also may have been unsuccessful due to the fact that the note sat on the kitchen table and taunted Elrond with its vague aura of intimidation, and also with the sheer amount of blood that was still caked on. It continued to do so up until Erestor gave it a solid smack, and a fair amount of the blood cracked and came off. At that point, Elrond decided it was high time to get to work. He left the mess on the table for a later cleanup, and put some food out for Erestor.</p>
<p>It was possible, he was coming to conclude, that his coping techniques were nonexistent, and that was at least partially the fault of those who had raised him.</p>
<p>He worked with Gil-galad for several hours, eating Thai food for dinner while they discussed the interview which had taken place with the parents of the child. The parents had been distraught – the child was about five years old, a girl, and they were almost certain that she had not run away. Review of some convenient security footage proved this, but they were still unknown as to who, exactly, had taken her. They drove the streets after dark, noticing how the city came to life at night during the winter, when it got dark so early. The girl had been kidnapped around this time.</p>
<p>It was good, to take a break from thinking about what had happened with Idril’s parents. Though it was constantly running in the background of his mind, he was glad to puzzle through something else.</p>
<p>Finally, at a rather ungodly hour, Gil-galad drove to drop Elrond at his house. “You need to get a car.”</p>
<p>Elrond made a noncommittal noise.</p>
<p>Gil-galad glanced over with his usual amusement. “Why was Fingon after you, anyway?”</p>
<p>Elrond blinked, not expecting that. “Distant relation.”</p>
<p>Gil-galad raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”</p>
<p>“Brother of my grandmother’s aunt,” Elrond said, then, “Thanks for the ride.”</p>
<p>“See you tomorrow afternoon?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Elrond replied, and then got out. There was a light on inside his house, and a car parked on the street again. He could only hope it was Elros and Tyelko and not someone coming to kill him, because he was just slightly too exhausted for an attempted assassination.</p>
<p>Elrond unlocked the front door to a shout. He closed his eyes and made an effort not to grit his teeth. He reopened them to see a guy slip around the hallway and come barreling towards the door. He looked Middle Eastern, maybe, with brown eyes, dark clothes, and hair that barely brushed his shoulders. He wasn’t tall, and had the skinny sort of face that lent itself to sneaking around corners. He was also holding a small handgun, although it didn’t look like he knew how to use it.</p>
<p>“Tyelpe,” came Tyelko’s voice, following him around the corner, and following <em>him </em>was Elros.</p>
<p>Elros made eye contact with Elrond, and the set of his face said <em>pissed off </em>in every way possible.</p>
<p>“Would you stop talking to me like I’m ten,” Tyelpe, assumedly Celebrimbor, snapped, then shot a look at Elrond. “Who the hell is he?”</p>
<p>Well, Elrond thought. There was no doubt that this kid was related to Tyelko.</p>
<p>Tyelko huffed aggravatedly. “That’s Elros’ twin, I told you that.”</p>
<p>“This is my house,” Elrond felt the need to point out. “Put the gun down.”</p>
<p>Celebrimbor was moving, putting his back to the wall and the gun towards Elrond’s face, frenetic actions like he wasn’t used to being trapped.</p>
<p>“It’s not loaded,” Elros said flatly, which Elrond sort of wished he’d said earlier.</p>
<p>Celebrimbor, in return, threw the gun at him, then lunged for the door.</p>
<p>“Shit,” Tyelko exclaimed, picking up the weapon. “That’s not yours!”</p>
<p>Elrond, without good options and too tired for fighting, kicked Celebrimbor in the balls.</p>
<p>Tyelko, who actually looked worn-out, yanked him up by his scruff and dragged him into the kitchen. “Let’s behave like civilized humans now. God, you’re <em>just </em>like Curvo.”</p>
<p>Elrond took off his coat, and looked at his brother. He waited a minute, and then simply asked, “Why?”</p>
<p>“He’s tried to run away twice already,” Elros hissed. “He’s barely legal, and he’s got the temperament of a feral cat.”</p>
<p>Elrond directed a look at his twin. “I did not actually mean for you to, you know, <em>kidnap </em>him.”</p>
<p>Elros rolled his eyes. “Oh, he agreed to come with us. Might have been cause we bailed him out of jail, but Tyelko was determined.”</p>
<p>Elrond breathed out slowly. “You better have brought back some of that good tea.”</p>
<p>In the kitchen, the lights were on, despite it being almost one am. Elros took the gun and started cleaning it off, packing it away. Celebrimbor sat at the kitchen counter, looking both surly and indignant. Tyelko was seated on the sink, scowling at him.</p>
<p>Elrond made himself some tea.</p>
<p>“That’s the note?” Elros asked, glancing at the mess on the table.</p>
<p>Elrond pinched his nose. “Yes.” He gave Celebrimbor a polite smile. “Welcome to DC. I take it that some of the current situation has been explained to you?”</p>
<p>Celebrimbor glared balefully back. Elrond agreed with Elros; Celebrimbor’s face was evocative of an angry Erestor. The aforementioned cat seemed to have identified this, and leapt into Celebrimbor’s lap.</p>
<p>Elrond sipped his tea and thought. What would be the next step? Who would be the next to talk to? Where could they use Celebrimbor?</p>
<p>Something twitched in his head. The Peredhel mansion in southern Virginia. The prison that Amrod and Amras Fëanorian had been placed in. Elrond pursed his lips. “I heard that your father hacked into the Pentagon. I am assuming you cannot do that.”</p>
<p>Celebrimbor reacted angrily to this. “You are <em>not </em>baiting me into hacking the government for you.”</p>
<p>Elrond tilted his head, a plan forming. “No,” he said slowly. “But I might be baiting you to help me get into a prison.” He smiled politely again. “What would you think of that?”</p>
<p>“No,” Tyelko said immediately, which was exactly what Elrond had expected.</p>
<p>Celebrimbor narrowed his eyes at Tyelko, then turned to Elrond. Now he had a rather shark-like smile. “Sure.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Frieeeeeends. (And enemies.) ((And interlude.))</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have nothing to say for myself</p><p>i stared at this for a month and started an original thing (not fanfic what a surprise) to take a break but it still didnt feel right so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Fingon and Argon stopped by, per Tyelko’s request. Their faces were lined with grief, but the resignation in Fingon’s was almost worse. <em>You cannot just accept that people will die, </em>Elrond wanted to tell him. But his experiences with grief were limited, and his reactions often not quite logical, so he had the good grace god gave him to keep his mouth shut.</p><p>Unfortunately, Tyelko did not.</p><p>“You’re telling me,” Fingon said flatly, “that now, when I have finally, <em>maybe</em>, gotten close to finding my husband, I have to leave the three of you – who are barely out of college – to deal with the <em>murderer </em>that is hunting down our family. And in order to find my sister, who is most likely on the other side of the country, the only person who knows where she is happens to be <em>him</em>.”</p><p>“Finno,” Tyelko replied. “You wound me.”</p><p>“To be fair,” Argon said, “you did hold a gun to his head that one time.”</p><p>Tyelko shrugged, looking completely unrepentant. “All’s fair in love and war.”</p><p>Fingon was tapping his foot like he might be convinced to commit murder one more time. “And why is it, exactly, that you know where she is?”</p><p>Tyelko rolled his eyes. “Oh, get off your high horse, you and Nelyo weren’t the only ones who grew up together. She’s my best friend, always will be, and she knows she can count on me to help bury a body.”</p><p>Fingon narrowed his eyes at Tyelko. “And what happens if we don’t want to traipse across the country with you?”</p><p>Tyelko shrugged, a smirk messing around the corners of his mouth. “Guess it’ll just take you a hell of a lot longer then, won’t it.”</p><p>Argon said, in a rather threatening way, “You’ll take us straight to her.”</p><p>Tyelko waved a hand flippantly at him. “Yeah, yeah.”</p><p>Fingon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s go get breakfast, Celegorm.”</p><p>When Tyelko had followed Argon and Fingon out the door a few minutes later, Elrond turned towards the living room. Celebrimbor was passed out on the couch, curled into a ball, and Elros was asleep on the floor, unmoving.</p><p>“I know you’re awake,” Elrond said to him. “You stopped snoring when they started arguing.”</p><p>Elros opened his eyes immediately, groaning as he sat up. “I don’t snore.”</p><p>“Sure,” Elrond said. “Want some toast?”</p><p>They sat at the kitchen counter and ate their toast.</p><p>Elrond said, “Would you like to get lunch together tomorrow? You can meet some of Fingon’s relatives.”</p><p>Elros squinted. “We’d have to bring the kid.”</p><p>“He’s not that much younger than us,” Elrond pointed out.</p><p>Elros shook his head. “Otherwise I’m going to handcuff him to the toilet. I don’t trust him not to just leave.”</p><p>“He’s not our prisoner,” Elrond said, then, “I will need to go somewhere this weekend.”</p><p>Elros raised an eyebrow at him, which Elrond always hated. He reluctantly explained the letter from Mithrandir.</p><p>Elros immediately told him, “I’m going with you.”</p><p>Elrond rolled his eyes, mostly to be contrary. “I am a big kid, you know, I can handle this on my own.”</p><p>“This family,” Elros said, in the same way one might say, this dog vomit.</p><p>“Nobody’s tried to kill me.” Yet. “It’ll be fine.”</p><p>Elros wordlessly gestured towards the note that still sat on the table.</p><p>And, well. Going alone would probably be a bad idea. Elros would be insufferable if Elrond’s curiosity got him killed.</p><p>“I should probably clean that up,” Elrond admitted after a minute.</p><p>“No shit.”</p><p>They devolved into bickering not long later, a well-worn conversational groove. Falling back into it felt right, even with how long it had been since they’d seen each other in person.</p><p>(<em>“If you’re going to punch him,” Makalurë had said after one such fight, when they were finally established in the little house in Alaska. “Make sure you’re punching him right. I won’t have either of you breaking fingers. I had a brother who did that, once.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Those who’d watched Elros and Elrond when they were very little had poor reactions to hitting – mainly that it was uncouth and disgraceful. Maitimo and Makalurë’s reactions were so vastly different that the twins immediately froze.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo sighed, amused, and turned back to his oatmeal.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Makalaurë, meanwhile, seemed slightly unnerved to have twin stares trained unerringly on his face. “Here’s the rules,” he said. “If you can’t agree, and you absolutely have to hit each other, I want you to follow the rules. Outside, away from the furniture – ”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What about in the winter?” Elros asked, much too eagerly for Elrond’s tastes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Makalaurë shrugged. “Outside, away from the furniture, and no leaving any permanent injuries. If either of you break anything, you’ll be doing the chores for a month.”</em>
</p><p><em>“You should learn how to fight properly,” Maitimo said quietly. “If you must beat each other, then it may as well be a lesson.”</em>)</p><p>During the winter months in Alaska, had they really felt the itch to hit, they’d shoved the furniture towards the walls (mostly when Makalaurë wasn’t there). In foster homes, they’d had to go to playgrounds or such to fight, which had often led to tempers cooling before they even arrived. Now, when they rarely met up with each other, fighting was a good thing to keep them both in practice.</p><p>Celebrimbor woke up when they shoved the couch he was asleep on towards the wall. He grumbled and turned over, but he only really awoke when Elrond crashed into the floor.</p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em> is wrong with you people,” Celebrimbor asked.</p><p>“I’m out of practice,” Elrond said, and groaned.</p><p>Elros, who this time had managed to put him on the floor in barely ten seconds, nodded. “Yep.”</p><p>Elrond lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling. Did he really want to get beat up today?</p><p>(<em>“C’mon, Elrond,” Maitimo coached, “block, now punch, there you go.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Elrond and Elros were evenly matched, for all that Elros was slightly taller. They’d gotten better at this, the way it was like a dance, the way they predicted each other’s movements before they happened. Elrond could see where Elros would lunge before he did it, the way he’d tense his jaw before a kick, and blink the sweat out of his eyes as he dodged. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But Elros was angrier than Elrond tonight, and that made him unpredictable. He growled and turned suddenly and knocked Elrond’s loose front tooth out with a hard punch, and the pain was sharp. Elrond was big though, and he didn’t cry. Instead, he pulled Elros’ hair and bloodied his nose.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They went to bed late, after a harsh scolding from Maitimo and Makalaurë. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“If someone deserves it, then fine,” Makalaurë had finished with. “If someone wants to hurt you, then fine, hurt them back. But don’t hurt the people you love.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“In the end,” Maitimo said. “The only person that hurts is you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Under their covers, in the half-twilight dimness of their room, Elros asked, “What if we ran away?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elros, Elrond thought, still believed this was a story. A grand adventure. Elrond had thought so too, for the first months, through the cold and the hunger, but then he’d stabbed that man. This wasn’t a fairytale, and even if it was, he didn’t think Maitimo and Makalaurë would have been the princes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Besides, Elrond didn’t put much stock in princes. Maitimo and Makalaurë were making do with what they had, and so were Elros and Elrond. The memories of their father – a boat gently rocking in the sun – and the memories of their mother – warm hands and gull cries above rocks. That was what they had. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Elrond poked his tongue into the space where his tooth had been. It ached a little, dully, but the pain felt more right than earlier. Like the living without it hurt less than the letting it go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No,” he said. Their parents weren’t coming back. This house, and the coming winter, and Maitimo and Makalaurë’s warmth. That was also what they had.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry,” Elros said, a few minutes later.</em>
</p><p><em>“Me too,” Elrond told him.</em>)</p><p>Elros wasn’t angry now. Elros was restless, sure, but he wasn’t angry. Elrond wasn’t sure if that was due to his current employment, or just the fact that they’d both matured. Either way, Elrond pulled himself off the floor and tossed a quick fist towards Elros’ face, trying to shield his movements as he aimed another punch at his brother’s stomach.</p><p>It did not work. Instead, Elrond gained a few bruises, and Elros barely broke a sweat.</p><p>“It’s a good thing I don’t routinely have to fight people who know what they’re doing,” Elrond said a few bouts later, staring at the ceiling again.</p><p>“It really is,” Elros agreed.</p><p>Elrond huffed. He glanced towards the couch, where Celebrimbor was curled up, staring at them. Wrapped in a blanket, he looked a bit less like a spitting cat and more like a skinny kid who didn’t get enough sunlight.</p><p>Elros grinned sharply and snapped at him. “Your turn.”</p><p>“What?” Celebrimbor said, blinking. “No, absolutely not.”</p><p>Elrond snorted at his brother. “Yeah, sure, beat on someone else for once.”</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Celebrimbor said forcefully.</p><p>It turned out that while Celebrimbor couldn’t fall properly to save his life, he could do a stunning impression of an angry Scotsman. Had Tyelko been there, he probably would have been proud.</p><p>The rest of the day went by quickly. Tyelko returned, repacked his bag, and left with Fingon and Argon, as well as with a frankly ridiculous amount of weaponry for the fact that he was going to be boarding a plane. After that, Elrond had to go to work. A bizarre conversation with Gil-galad was all that the evening had yielded, which frustrated the both of them, for missing children were never a good thing.</p><p>And now, home far later than he would have liked, he walked in to find Celebrimbor curled up in a chair at his kitchen counter, sucking on a lollipop and typing horrifically fast on a laptop. Elrond noticed his brother fast asleep on the couch and wondered how, exactly, Celebrimbor had managed that. Then he figured he was too tired to care, and Celebrimbor hadn’t run away like Elros thought he would, so really – who was right, here? Because it wasn’t Elros.</p><p>Elrond made himself some tea.</p><p>“Your brother has a pretty odd reaction to Benadryl, doesn’t he?” Celebrimbor said, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.</p><p>Elrond squinted over at Celebrimbor, backlit by the strange lighting of two am. Celebrimbor watched him back, fingers not even slowing down as he glanced away from the screen. He looked more awake now, like this was his kind of environment. Further evidence he was a cat, Elrond figured.</p><p>“Probably,” Elrond said. This might be one of those things he should be worried about, but Celebrimbor deserved to get back at Elros for the whole partial kidnapping thing. “Neither of us had any contact with medicine other than Advil for…a few too many years, so I’m really not sure what we’d be allergic to or not.”</p><p>Celebrimbor made an inelegant snorting noise. “You guys are so fucked up.”</p><p>Elrond thought about what he knew of Celebrimbor’s life. “To be fair,” he said, “I do not think your life is any better.”</p><p>Celebrimbor flipped him off.</p><p>“Tea?” Elrond asked.</p><p>“You and your tea,” Celebrimbor said, not that aggressively. “Got any alcohol?”</p><p>“Yes,” Elrond said, “but you will not be drinking it.”</p><p>Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>Elrond shrugged. “Somebody is going to try and kill us at some point. I would rather neither of us be drunk.”</p><p>“Your priorities are also really fucked up.”</p><p>“Celebrimbor, is there a point to this conversation?”</p><p>“Let’s talk about why I’m here.”</p><p>“You are here to help me get into a prison.”</p><p>“That was to piss my uncle off.”</p><p>Damn, he was sharper than Elrond had given him credit for. Though, with the whole hacking thing, maybe Elrond just wasn’t giving him enough credit. “It was also a legitimate reason.”</p><p>“There’s a lot of moving parts to this, aren’t there?” And yes, Celebrimbor’s eyes were alert and wide-open, and very aware.</p><p>Elrond perched on the kitchen counter and picked up Erestor. “How much did they explain when they picked you up?”</p><p>Celebrimbor admitted, “Not a lot.”</p><p>Elrond took a deep breath, and then gave him the short version of a very long story. Celebrimbor stopped typing, and his eyes were calculating, like they were running statistics and possibilities even as he learned the true scope of what was happening. Maybe he was running the probability of all of them dying.</p><p>Honestly, it was probably pretty high.</p><p>“The Silmarils,” Celebrimbor said at the end. “Silmarils, you said?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond replied, then faked a yawn. “You ready to go to bed?”</p><p>“Soon,” Celebrimbor replied, but he sounded much more distracted now, and he was typing faster. He certainly was not heading for bed. Elrond weighed the probabilities of him being gone by morning. They were also pretty high.</p><p>Elrond didn’t squint at him. Nor did he grit his teeth. Instead he said, “I’m sure you know what Elros does. I do, too.”</p><p>Celebrimbor blinked, and looked up curiously at Elrond.</p><p>Elrond told him, “I am not that much older than you. We aren’t keeping you prisoner here. But I know how to use a knife, rather well, and my brother is fairly good with a gun. You are a part of this all, or you are a loose end. Only one leaves you alive.”</p><p>“Are you threatening me?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Celebrimbor did not look terrified. He did, however, seem vaguely rattled.</p><p>“Probably alive,” Elrond amended. “I can’t exactly guarantee that.”</p><p>“You really are equally as much of an asshole as the rest of them.”</p><p>“Of course I am. I am just quieter about it.”</p><p>Celebrimbor snorted. Then he said, “Fine.”</p><p>Elrond relaxed slightly. Hopped off the counter, and put Erestor in Celebrimbor’s lap. He leaned over him, using the fact that he had a few inches and a few pounds on him in what he hoped was a threateningly friendly way. “What do you know about the Silmarils, then?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tyelko did not, generally, appreciate most of his cousins. <em>Especially </em>not lovely Uncle Fingolfin’s kids. Aredhel was still (and always would be) his best friend. However, Turgon (god rest his soul) was an arrogant son of a bitch (the bitch being Fingolfin). Fingon was tolerable, mainly because Tyelko knew that Fingon had a dark side (and he appreciated when Fingon accepted that and worked with it) and also because he knew (grudgingly) how determined Fingon was to find Nelyo. (Even though Nelyo was most likely dead. Almost certainly. Tyelko didn’t really allow himself to think otherwise.)</p><p>Argon, though? Argon was kind of an asshole.</p><p>So they were on a plane, Dulles to Seattle, five hours into a six hour flight. Tyelko was in the middle, and it was starting to feel a bit cramped, since Argon and Fingon had felt the need to go through straight, legal channels.</p><p>Tyelko felt that was rather boring. “Really,” he said. “We could have flown first class, Finno.”</p><p>“Please.” Argon sounded tired of Tyelko, and it’d only been three hours. “Please shut up.”</p><p>Argon, Argon. He was muscled and tall and built like a soldier, which was what he was. (Certainly what Tyelko wasn’t, though he’d like to think he’s rather ripped too.) Would almost be Tyelko’s type, if he didn’t care slightly more about incestuous relations than his darling brother.</p><p>Tyelko blew Argon a kiss. “Oh, I love it when you beg.”</p><p>Argon shot him a glare like he’d very much like to punch him. Fingon had no such reservations, and whacked Tyelko upside the head with a rolled-up magazine. “That would be a waste, and we don’t quite have the money for it.”</p><p>Tyelko pointedly shifted his legs, banging into at least two seats and possibly waking a sleeping baby. Argon groaned, and Fingon pointedly raised an eyebrow back.</p><p>“Well,” Tyelko said. “When Grandfather died, the fortune got split three ways. But only one Uncle is still alive. So, Finno. <em>Do</em> you have the money for it?”</p><p>This was mostly a bluff. Tyelko was pretty sure he knew exactly that Fingon had the money for it, that in fact he had quite a bit of money, and also that it was a surprising amount, considering he’d managed to get his hands on the Fëanorian split of the hoard besides. (Though that was, probably, Tyelko and his brothers’ fault, since all of the above were dead, imprisoned, or ‘dead’.) Either way, Tyelko wasn’t quite sure where Fingon stood with it. He’d seemed plenty keen to use it to bribe people, so the possibility of not using it to fly first class was, admittedly, rather confusing.</p><p>Tyelko had no such reservations. “Next time,” he said. “Let’s fly first class. You’re probably going to want to, anyway.”</p><p>“No,” Fingon said flatly.</p><p>Tyelko rolled his eyes.</p><p>“You’re entitled,” Argon told him.</p><p>“I’m smart,” Tyelko told him. “And you better have gotten us a good hotel.”</p><p>Thankfully, Fingon had. Unfortunately, there was a man in it, and he had a very large knife. The fight that ensued was brief and unexciting, other than Argon’s rather impressive display of flexibility by kicking the knife out of the man’s hand. Tyelko had the man up against the balcony (the sliding door was open, what poor room service) in less than a minute.</p><p>Tyelko pressed the knife to the guy’s throat. “Know who I am?”</p><p>The guy didn’t say anything, but he went very still, eyes wide and chest heaving in the darkness of the night.</p><p>Tyelko pressed it deeper. “You picked the wrong man to fuck with,” he crooned. Argon made a noise. Maybe he’d been stabbed. Fingon snapped something at Tyelko, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he let a smile spread across his face. He knew what they called him, and so did this man. “Tell the devil I said hello.”</p><p>Tyelko flicked the knife across the throat, hard, and then hauled the man up and over the balcony with a powerful shove. He fell gracelessly, swallowed up by the darkness below until there came the thump of it hitting the ground.</p><p>Tyelko wiped the blood off the knife on Fingon’s sweatshirt, wishing Elros were there, always with a spare handkerchief. (There was a possibility he’d picked that habit up from Elrond, Tyelko realized.) He’d made a mistake, gotten too used to having Elros around. Shouldn’t be relying on the kid so much.</p><p>Fingon was blinking disappointedly. “You killed that man.”</p><p>Tyelko rolled his eyes again, because it was easier to let Elros be his conscience than to have his own. “Oh, come off it, Finno. I didn’t kill him, gravity did.”</p><p>“You’re a motherfucking assassin,” Argon said. Evidently he had not been stabbed, or at least not enough to have dampened his doucheness.</p><p>“Hey,” Tyelko said, shushing Argon with the now-clean knife. “My mother is a lovely woman, leave her out of this.”</p><p>“What the shit,” Argon said, like he wasn’t in the military and didn’t know that people like Tyelko existed.</p><p>“Come on, we’re all adults. Besides,” Tyelko flicked a glance at Fingon, “I really thought you already knew that.”</p><p>Fingon sighed, plucking at the bloody side of his sweatshirt resignedly. “I was…hoping for the best.”</p><p>Tyelko gave an unexpected bark of a laugh. “Oh, Finno. Don’t make that mistake again.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Elrond, Elros, and Celebrimbor got a late lunch at Lothlórien the day after Tyelko left. Surprisingly, they drove, because Elros did not have the same bias against cars that Elrond did, and also because it was cold.</p><p>“Shouldn’t you be in a disguise or something?” Celebrimbor pointed out to Elros as they walked in.</p><p>“The idea of my work is that there aren’t a lot of people who know my face.”</p><p>“Aren’t a lot of people <em>alive</em>,” Celebrimbor inferred.</p><p>Elros shrugged. “You said it.”</p><p>“Guys,” Elrond said wearily.</p><p>Elrond and Celebrimbor had come to an uneasy truce the previous night. Celebrimbor had heard of the Silmarils before; the vague concept, and horror stories of what could be developed from them. <em>They’re not my expertise, </em>Celebrimbor had told Elrond, and then looked up at him with something terribly eager glittering in his eyes. <em>But they could be. If you needed. </em>And if Celebrimbor was half of what Curufin had been, what all the Fëanorian brothers had been, no wonder he was ridiculously paranoid. If Celebrimbor was half of what Fëanor had been, then no wonder that intellect had destroyed armies.</p><p>Elrond was starting to wonder if maybe he and Celebrimbor were a bit too similar for either of their tastes.</p><p>Celebrimbor was still snipping at Elros as they walked through the doors of Lothlórien, and Elros didn’t stop snipping back as they sat in a corner booth, though Elrond could see his brother evaluating the place.</p><p>Elrond had not gotten quite as much sleep as he would’ve liked. “Guys,” he said, trying to interrupt their bickering.</p><p>And then came Celebrían’s voice, both the best thing and the worst thing that could happen this morning. “Elrond. I wasn’t expecting you today.”</p><p>Elrond sat up quickly, and that was when Elros’ gaze locked onto him gleefully.</p><p>“Hi, yes,” Elrond said, shooting a glare at his brother, and then turned towards the silver-haired girl. She looked more tired than she’d been the other day, but Idril was still staying with her, so maybe that was to be expected. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m hanging in there,” Celebrían said, and gave him a soft smile. She narrowed her eyes at Elros, grinning widely, and Celebrimbor, slouching grumpily. “Who’s this?”</p><p>Elrond sighed. “You know how I told you of that brother we don’t talk about?”</p><p>Celebrían nodded hesitantly, and Elros made a noise that Elrond couldn’t exactly define.</p><p>“This is my brother,” Elrond said, and glanced at Elros, who nodded. “Elros. And that’s our…cousin, Celebrimbor.” Elrond gave a look to Elros. <em>Behave. </em>“This is Celebrían. She’s…involved.” He had no better explanation.</p><p>“Well,” Elros started with a smile, and Elrond resisted the urge to grind his teeth in annoyance. “It’s so nice to meet you,” he side-eyed Elrond, “even though I’ve heard nothing about you.”</p><p>Celebrían laughed, because Celebrían was lovely. “Nice to meet you too, mystery brother and mystery cousin.”</p><p>“Did you want to sit down with us?” Elros offered.</p><p>Celebrían glanced at her watch. “Sure, why not.”</p><p>She chose to sit down next to Elrond. Elrond wondered if somehow Elros had masterminded this. Elrond thought about putting his head down and going back to sleep.</p><p>“So what do you guys do?” Celebrían asked after a moment of silence.</p><p>Celebrimbor and Elros both looked to Elrond, like he should have the answers. “I travel,” Elros said vaguely, when no such answers were forthcoming. “What about you?”</p><p>Celebrían seemed to notice the not-so-subtle sidestep, for there was a smile tugging around the corners of her lips. “Paramedic.”</p><p>Elros sat forward, and really, Elrond thought, only his brother. “Oh?”</p><p>Thus began an impressively intricate and unsurprisingly morbid conversation about the processes involved around intubation. Elrond and Celebrimbor exchanged equally exhausted looks (and Elrond didn’t read too far into <em>that</em>, or he might want to shoot himself). When the waiter came, they simply ordered for Elros and Celebrían themselves, and ate in silence while Celebrían and Elros chattered about cutting holes in someone’s trachea. Celebrimbor commiseratingly passed Elrond the ketchup.</p><p>Finally, Celebrían glanced at her watch again. “Well, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you two, and it was nice to see you, Elrond.” She shot him a soft smile.</p><p>“Nice to see you, too,” Elrond said quietly, although perhaps too quietly, as she walked away.</p><p>Elros leaned back in the booth. “You picked a good one, brother. I approve.”</p><p>Celebrimbor, who up to this point had seemingly been on Elrond’s side in this whole disaster, blinked twice and then in a rather undignified manner, started giggling.</p><p>Elrond didn’t have a clue how to respond. “I hate this family.”</p><p>Elros laughed at him.</p><p>Things were almost normal, almost comfortable, until Elrond’s phone rang. He picked it up, still snorting at a horrific joke Celebrimbor made, and then stiffened when he heard Gil-galad.</p><p>“Elrond. Need you to come in.” There was an imperceptible tinge of urgency to his voice.</p><p>Elrond put his fork down. “What happened?”</p><p>“We found the girl.”</p><p>Elrond waited.</p><p>“She’s dead.”</p><p>“I will be right there.” Elrond hung up, and stood quickly to leave. “I have to go,” he said, and then scowled. “And I’m taking the car.”</p><p>When Elrond got to the crime scene, it was already surrounded by an ambulance and three cop cars, one of which had Gil-galad standing by it. Elrond parked (badly) and then snatched a pair of gloves from off the ambulance. He snapped them onto his hands and strode over to his boss.</p><p>“Afternoon,” Gil-galad greeted him grimly.</p><p>“Yeah,” Elrond replied distractedly. He glanced around. Everything was washed out, all pale under the grey sky. It felt too much like the other day, like Turgon and Elenwë’s bodies on the ground.</p><p>“Over here,” Gil-galad said, and led him towards the body.</p><p>The girl was little. Elrond exhaled, looking down at her. She’d been stabbed, probably multiple times. Her face was bruised, and there was an awful lack of blood for all the stab wounds. He’d seen people try to drain bodies before, and there’d been more blood than this. “She was not killed here?”</p><p>Gil-galad shook his head. “Body was dumped. We think, two hours ago?”</p><p>One of the medics glanced up, nodding, and started talking at Gil-galad. Elrond, half-listening, crouched down next to the girl. She was too young for this. It was one thing to look at the murdered bodies of adults, adults who (in the case of the Finwëans) had certainly never been angels themselves. But it was quite another thing to look at the body of a child who had been brutally killed just because somebody wanted to.</p><p>Elrond stood up. He walked around the scene, looking for any small things that may have been missed and hoping that the ambulance crew hadn’t disturbed anything.</p><p>“Any ideas?” Gil-galad asked, joining him.</p><p>Elrond shook his head, thinking. He was pretty sure they were missing something. There was something off about this all.</p><p>Unfortunately, the missing piece came in the form of a car skidding around the corner, and the black muzzle of a gun pointed out the window.</p><p>“My chances of dying go up at least forty percent whenever you’re around, Tar-Minyatur,” Gil-galad said as they crouched behind one of the patrol cars. The bullets were still coming, though the car was speeding up again.</p><p>“Sounds about right,” Elrond said, breathing slightly harder. Elrond did not have a gun on him. Knives didn’t do much when there were people trying to kill you. <em>Wait – </em> </p><p>The car was retreating. One of the officers was running into the street, yelling into a radio and furiously trying to write down a license plate number. The paramedics off the ambulance were dealing with another officer, who’d gotten shot in the arm.</p><p>Elrond was running over the whole thing in his head. Hit and run. Who had they shot at first? Not a coincidence, though, or it didn’t seem like it – no, the body had been dumped here purposefully, there was too little blood, and it was that particular girl, so –</p><p>“They were trying to kill one of us,” Elrond said to Gil-galad.</p><p>Gil-galad gave him a severe look. “Really.”</p><p>“No,” Elrond said. “They were trying to kill <em>one of us</em>.”</p><p>This time Gil-galad got the point. He rubbed his face and muttered something impolite about reports. Then he said, “Maybe we should take the day off tomorrow.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Elros was, to put it frankly, rather pissed off at whoever was still trying to kill his brother.</p><p>"Be quiet,” he told Celebrimbor. “Elrond’s trying to sleep in.”</p><p>Celebrimbor, who’d been humming and was sucking on yet another lollipop, glanced at the clock. “It’s almost noon,” he said flatly.</p><p>“He needs the rest,” Elros said, “after whatever the <em>fuck </em>happened yesterday.”</p><p>Celebrimbor rolled his eyes but stopped humming, and slowed his typing down. “You’re a mother hen.”</p><p>“I am not,” Elros said defensively. He wasn’t. He was just (<em>exactly like Maitimo, exactly like him, because even after they left Elros had still wanted to be like Maitimo, gruff and hard enough that the world couldn’t hurt him anymore</em>) protective.</p><p>“Yes you are,” Celebrimbor said, sounding amused. “Here, look at this.”</p><p>Elros had only known Celebrimbor for a few days, which was a record amount of time for the fact that Elros was starting to trust him. This was the only logical explanation for the fact that Elros did actually lean forward to look, except that it was just gay porn.</p><p>Celebrimbor sat back, cackling, and Elros rolled his eyes.</p><p>It was strange, being back around people his own age. Being back with his brother. There was an easiness to the interactions, even in Celebrimbor’s craziness and Elrond’s paranoia, that was otherwise lacking from Elros’ life. And it hurt, a little bit, because one didn’t just retire from killing others for a living. Elros wouldn’t get to stay here, teasing Elrond about his crush and showing Celebrimbor how to roll with a punch and these strangely comforting jokes.</p><p>(<em>Just like he hadn’t been allowed to stay in Alaska, just like how Maitimo and Makalaurë hadn’t stayed, just like how all the homes Elros had ever been in had been the kind of pain that smiled before it bit.</em>)</p><p>“Does my uncle have any,” Celebrimbor’s face twisted, “pictures? Of his brothers?”</p><p>Elros blinked away the thoughts of his foster-parents’ faces. “A few,” he finally said, because it was Tyelko’s darkest secret but Celebrimbor was a living embodiment of that, and besides, he deserved to see it. “You didn’t know your father?”</p><p>Celebrimbor shrugged, reticent as usual in giving up particular secrets.</p><p>Elros took that for what it was, and stood up to go find Tyelko’s bag. Hidden in the bottom, under a false flap, there was his favorite knife. And there, right beside it – two pictures.</p><p>“Here,” Elros said, and walked back over to Celebrimbor. He laid them out on the table, next to Celebrimbor’s laptop. “Be careful.”</p><p>It was easy, at first glance, to tell who Curufin Fëanorian was. He was whiter than Celebrimbor, but the dark, bright eyes and shoulder-length hair were all the same. He wasn’t smiling, in the one picture, but Tyelko was, all savage teeth, the both of them radiating danger. Tyelko was younger, then, and the bags under his eyes less pronounced. He had his arm around Curufin, and an enormous dog at their feet. The other picture was the one that hurt, though – all seven brothers huddled together, three of whom Elros had known, three of whom Elros had heard stories about, and one of whom was a body in the ground. It was an old picture; Maitimo, the eldest, looking <em>maybe </em>Celebrimbor’s age. The red-haired twins didn’t look like they’d hit puberty yet, and Curufin was smirking as Tyelko put bunny ears up behind Caranthir’s dark head. Maitimo was smiling the smile of an exhausted older sibling, and Makalaurë looked mutinous.</p><p>They were so <em>young</em>, Elros thought. So happy. None of them looked capable of murder.</p><p>“Narvi said I should go with you guys,” Celebrimbor said quietly, and put down the picture of Tyelko and Curufin. “I hate when she’s right.”</p><p>Elros snorted.</p><p>Celebrimbor leaned back in his chair. “The weirdest part of this entire situation is that <em>your</em> best friend was my dad’s favorite brother.”</p><p>Elros thought about the complicated past that he had with Tyelko. “I’m not sure I’d call him my best friend,” he said.</p><p>Celebrimbor frowned, a quick expression that crumpled his face together in a strangely endearing way.</p><p>Elros knew what he’d call Tyelko. He didn’t know if he wanted to say it to Celebrimbor, though. “It’s complicated.”</p><p>Celebrimbor raised a daring eyebrow.</p><p>“He tried to kill me. I stopped him from dying. Now we work together.” <em>He couldn’t keep your father safe. He couldn’t keep his brothers alive. He thinks taking care of me will make up for it.</em></p><p>“Huh,” Celebrimbor said, like that was a good enough answer, but those bright eyes remained on Elros, even as he went to put the pictures away.</p><p>When Elrond emerged from his room for lunch, eyes bleary but clothes as neat as always, he said offhandedly, “I invited Celebrían and Idril over this evening.”</p><p>“What,” Elros said.</p><p>“Oh, Idril <em>Finw</em><em>ëan</em>?” Celebrimbor said, like he knew something they didn’t.</p><p>Elrond glared. “Idril is the one whose parents died. She needs to get out of their house. You two will be nice to her, or so help me god I will make you regret you were born.”</p><p>The evening ended up being absolutely nothing like what Elros expected. He’d expected Idril, from what Elrond said, to be quiet, to be weepy, as people tended to be after close family members died. He’d expected Elrond to flirt with Celebrían for a majority of the evening, and for Elros to sit there vaguely uncomfortably while his brother tried to get into someone’s pants. He’d expected to want to go to sleep early, because as much as Elros pretended to be good at talking to people (indeed, as much as it was <em>necessary</em> he be good at talking to people) – when it wasn’t in the context of life or death, betrayal or trust, Elros was as startlingly bad at it as Elrond. He was just quieter about it.</p><p>Instead, it was Idril, catching a glimpse of Elros through the doorway. “There’s <em>two </em>of you?”</p><p>Celebrimbor gave a startled laugh. “That’s what I said!” And suddenly the two of them were friends.</p><p>It was Celebrían, bringing two boxes of pizza, one plain cheese and one with pineapple. Elrond groaned, and Idril said flatly, “You’re disgusting.”</p><p>Elros, though, gave Celebrían a fist bump. “You understand.”</p><p>It was Celebrimbor, making Celebrían giggle unexpectedly about something, and the way the guarded look in Elrond’s eyes lowered just a bit. It was Celebrían, daring a reluctant Elrond to juggle knives, and Elros almost spraining his ankle as he got up to stop Celebrimbor from trying, too. It was Erestor, curling up in the middle of their circle in complete bliss as they laved attention on him, and cuddling up to Idril specifically. It was the way that they were all, somehow, oddly similar, with their dark senses of humor and cynical outlooks on the world and strange stories leading strange lives, because that, Elros was finding, was the Finwëan way.</p><p>It was Idril, following Elros into the kitchen, golden and sad. She was objectively very beautiful, but Elros was very gay. Either way, he wasn’t quite prepared for what came out of her mouth.</p><p>“Can you teach me how to hurt someone?”</p><p>Elros blinked, and tilted his head at her. There was a hard set to her mouth, and panic waiting in the wings behind her eyes. She looked like Elros had, once, in a foster house that was not his home. She looked like Elrond had, after they’d left.</p><p>(<em>“Don’t hurt the people you love,” Makalaur</em><em>ë said.</em></p><p><em>“In the end,” Maitimo added. “The only person that hurts is you.”</em>)</p><p>Elros exhaled. He was a contract killer. (He would not be allowed to stay<em>.</em>) There was a golden girl in front of him, and she wanted to burn the world down. (There was a silver girl on the floor, and a shadowed brother with her, and a too-sharp boy with too-interesting eyes curled up on the couch.)</p><p>He was a goddamn contract killer. How did he keep ending up with so many pseudo-siblings?</p><p>“Sure,” he finally said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope it was enjoyed :) comments/kudos always appreciated</p><p>also - im super bad at responding to comments so i appreciate them greatly but i mayyy not respond to them sorry :(</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope that was intriguing? or something? come yell with me on <a href="https://stormwarnings.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> lmaoo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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